


The Long Walk Home

by Kyzy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Genji is going crazy, Light Gency so far, Other, Probably will get heavier later on, Slow Burn, plot heavy, thats a main point, want this to be focused more on the plot than anything though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyzy/pseuds/Kyzy
Summary: The recall was a mistake. In a abandoned underground hospital in the middle of nowhere, Overwatch attempts to rebuild itself with suspicious going-ons behind the scenes, bribery, black-mail and 'accidents' that seem too coincidental to be true. The government heads are quiet, the whole thing seems to be a closely guarded secret and nothing but instructions are given to the heroes being called, yet...  they had all crawled back to Overwatch like dogs answering the trill of a whistle. Each one has returned for a different reason-- and each one has returned different in general.Except Genji, that is.Plagued by nightmares and suffering instability in his life just like he had when he had left the damned organization, he vows to figure out what this is all about... before he loses his goddamn mind to troubles he thought were long past him.Chapter five: 'The eagle and the hunt'. In which the best way to catch a Pharah is to throw yourself at her, clearly.





	1. The heavy flight

**Author's Note:**

> **Hi there! I haven't written any fanfiction for a while so I thought I'd get back into it. This is gonna have a lot of plot in the future and I'm sorry this first chapter is boring and mostly scene setting. I didn't want to shove too much into it!**  
>     
>  **Please review or like or whatever you want to do. I read all comments and would love some feedback! Have a nice day, and enjoy!**

A private jet… how did they have the funding for a _private jet?_

Two AM cruising across a jet black sea was not how he foresaw his future self; he had instead imagined he’d be cosied down in the sleepy city of Dharan, Nepal, ready to start an excursion to China the day after. It was to be a journey of pure discovery and wish fulfillment, for in the days after his encounter with his brother in Japan, he had sought mental refuge in Nepal’s snowy peaks until he felt fit enough to take a break. That break would be paralleling Chinese beliefs to his own, only adding to his roster of Eastern ideals that he had already amalgamated within his mind-- but that dream of adventuring died when his comms, long thought dead, began to beep erratically into the decaying night. 

He carried it on him always. Barely bigger than a USB stick and crafted with the intent to notify ex-Overwatch members that the fires have been lit again, he could never forget Winston forcing it upon him as an absolute necessity. The ape had practically thrust it upon him the moment his troubled mind had sunk its teeth into the idea of _roaming_ , as if his animal senses had alerted him to the straying of a comrade. Genji had assured him that he wished not to return, that his life was going to take a path away from war but he had been jostled into believing the other male's words-- _It will not be intrusive or bothersome. It’s just so we can find you if you ever need help… and so that you can find us, should we ever need yours again._

His goodbye to Zenyatta had been brief but sweet. Assuring the Omnic that he would not be participating in any _wars_ of any kind had been the first step, and then promising he would return home safe had been the next. _I can be rebuilt,_ he had chided with the gentle soul, his master placing a hand upon his shoulder. _Yes, you can, but that does not mean you cannot get injured._

Genji chewed on the words as he oft did with any bit of advice that his master gave him and decided to relay it in his head over and over. The cyborg had been regressing but only fractionally… it turned out Hanzo once again unleashing the dragons upon him could rouse nightmares he thought had been buried long ago and displace new habits in favor of the old ones. 

And the nightmares came _hard._ Sleep became something fleeting, something he waited to descend upon him when his ability to stay lucid was wavering. He felt that recently, he spent most of his time in this addled state where the confusion of existence harassed him constantly. Old trauma resurfacing. Old habits biting once again. The cyborg had thought, surely, meditation would work once more but he was heavily reminded that what took years to repair could not be fixed once again in a few sessions with himself.

“Is there ever any time for peace with an existence like this, in a world like this…” He breathed to himself, barely above a whisper. The thoughts of China returned to him once more, and with those came the frustration of the once-beeping communicator and how it had dragged him out of his life. He had reasoned with himself _not_ to answer it, not after what had _happened_ but…

Once a warrior, always a warrior. Zenyatta often (politely) scathed him for that mentality. 

“I didn’t want to go back.” Came the soft mumble, head pressed against the window ever so lightly as if he feared he would somehow break it with his armor. Genji had jumped willfully at the sounding of the horns rallying them again, despite whatever his past self had said. Perhaps it was the strong yet consistent urge to see his friends from long ago, or perhaps it was the using of the dragon against his brother that had awakened some fight in him that had been slumbering in the wake of his teachings. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps he merely saw a path in life that spiked his curiosity. 

Either way, the man was _definitely_ on a plane with a flight crew that pretended not to hear him muttering to himself every now and then.

Thumbing the device under the dimmed lights of a private plane, he read the tiny screen over and over with half lidded eyes. It had first told him that a plane was waiting for him at the nearest airport, and was now displaying coordinates to a place that he didn’t know. The driver, tenaciously adamant on staying quiet, was locked behind a door and the staff were avoidant and dismissive of his earlier questions. Wherever he was going, it was supposed to be a ‘surprise’. 

The ninja wasn’t sure he liked the idea of that.

* * *

Nine AM. 

He realized his efforts to stay awake had been in vain. The soft lights and droning of the planes internals had whisked him off into a land of slumber where no uneasiness about the recall existed, and no anxiety about what he could have been facing would be present. However, in the dream, there had been a blue haze in the background that danced in circles before fizzling out into a land beyond his sight. It was better to see from afar than to gaze what he knew was the beauty of the dragons from up close. No nightmare this time. That was a triumph in some respects.

Though it was the harsh red and yellow of the sun striking him through the window and the absence of noise that roused him, the real getter-upper was the pressure of the cabin displacing. When the doors opened he felt a rush of warmth flooding in from the outside and, suddenly sitting bolt upright, his eyes immediately darted to see his surroundings-- he didn’t wake like other people. Grogginess or jet lag didn’t apply when your body was eighty percent false.

What he saw however was enough to _feel_ like he was still asleep in some regards, his helm protecting him from the sheer brightness of it all. The red had been the rocky mountains and cliff races around him dyed crimson by the sun and sand set against a crystal blue sky, the land dotted here and there by thistle-like shrubbery that poked through the rocks and dirt.

“Mr Shimada?” Comes the gentle voice of a stewardess off to the side. He didn’t give her his attention immediately, but does so before she has to ask again.

“Where are we?” He was almost sure she wouldn’t answer that time and thus, is pleasantly surprised when she does. 

“Mid-west America. Please, follow me for departure.”

 _Mid-west America?_ The man stood and left the plane almost faster than she could keep up with him, his strides steady and firm, even when the heat of the early sun began to smother his body plates the moment he was outside. 

For a brief moment he entertained the idea that this was all a setup; that someone had grabbed the software for Athena’s unique communication device and was using it to lure former agents to their doom, but that didn’t last for long. Athena was like the life blood of Overwatch, and though he knew not of the recent _potential_ hacking of her systems he knew well enough that she had been regarded as one of the world’s most protected AI systems. This was legit. It was almost as legit as the door he was facing, the one built _into_ the ground about five feet away from him. 

“... What is this?”

His head turned to the woman who had escorted him out but she merely motioned to the latched, safe-like sheet of metal in the ground and turned her back, promptly walking herself back to the plane without an answer. Though its engines were not on, Genji knew that it was going to bolt out of there the moment he turned to look from it. 

Between the door and the uneasy, silent crew, the ninja was starting to believe maybe it _was_ a trap.

It took a few moments for him to give in to his inevitable curiosity however, crouching down to inspect it closely. It was the same red as the earth, unseeable from the heights, but glazed quite obviously with armor that he knew would be bomb-resistant. It was the sort of stuff that was easily found on every point of the exposed watchpoint at Gibraltar. It was a vote of confidence if anything. Same tech, same company. The paneling slid smoothly to the side to reveal to him a deep darkness within as the door collapsed and hid itself to the side, the coolness of whatever was below rising to slather him in an artificial coldness. It was akin to the rush of air felt when the plane doors had opened; except this time, it was welcome.

Engine noises startled him out of his staring into the abyss; the plane was going. 

“I guess they don’t think I’m going to want to leave then,” He remarked as he swiveled his head a little to the side, catching the fuzzing of the air around the machines whirring blades. A beep in his hand-- the communicator's message had changed.

_Welcome home, Genji!_

Home was Nepal and the cold and the stillness of it all, not the sweltering heat of America’s western deserts and the feeling of abandonment stemming from the plane. But he was delaying what he already knew he was _going_ to do-- and that was take a leap of faith into the darkness with the worry of what he would find. 

There _was_ a ladder-- but he ignored it completely, opting for simply… falling.

The fall wasn’t long and, midway, he had positioned his hand upon the hilt of his sword to get ready to draw it upon being met with confrontation but instead of even _hitting the floor_ he lands in--!?

“ _Genji!_ ”

… A furry set of arms, having been snatched out of the air at the last second, claim him in a warm embrace. There was no doubt about who that gravelly voice or the set of arms belonged to. It could only be the one and only--

“Winston!” He squeaks, moments before he is let down so that his feet could touch the floor. 

There he was. The greatest scientist he knew and the fuzziest person to ever command his respect. Winston hadn’t looked like he had aged a day, with his wide eyes and bright white lab coat, always ready to work. Emotions welled up within him and, if he hadn’t been so tense, he probably would have been jumping up and down with happiness at the fact that old memories of the glory days were rolling back into his mind… but he _was_ very tense. 

“My God, look at you; looking better than ever, I say!” The Gorilla’s cheery words made him question how he could look _any_ different in a body that did not age, but he didn’t want to stifle the electric air that had settled around them immediately. “I’m so glad you could make it… you are not the first-- the others will be _ecstatic_ to see you!”

“Ah?” So… others _did_ respond. “You flew everyone here?”

“Yes! Welcome to our _new_ HQ… right here in the heart of the mid-west!”

The gorilla spreads his arms out wide to indicate what was around them- the same white-and-silver paneling of the last Overwatch hub, low ceilings, tables and a few workers patching up walls. There were wires upon the floor leading out of the vast room-- which he supposed was a lobby of sort-- into the narrow corridors beyond. It gave off a real… _hospital_ -like vibe and Genji wondered if that is what it once was, as the place was clearly in need of a _lot_ of repair before it became any kind of headquarters. Still, being underground made it practical if not a little claustrophobic and suspicious feeling. As if reading his mind, Winston placed a paw gently upon his shoulder.

“Sorry about the hush-hush nature of it all; not even the crew were allowed to know what they were bringing you to… but I assure you, it’s safe here. At least, _now_ it’s safe.”

“... Was it not safe before?”

“It was a underground medical bay built during the crisis. It was abandoned due to an incident that transpired where electricity was cut and the place put itself on lock-down. It almost became a grave to the people damned down here with no escape… but that won’t happen again. We’ve got the top engineers from around the world to make sure that it is both a fortress _and_ is escape-able in case of dire circumstances.” That paw once upon the ninjas shoulder lifted to tamper with the glasses upon his snout. “It completely evades radars; I thought it was _perfect_ for our second run of Overwatch… seeing as Watchpoint Gibraltar was compromised.”

“... Compromised?” He didn’t hear anything about that; though he knew vaguely of a ‘terror’ group known as Talon that had just been rumors when he had left Overwatch, he didn’t think anyone would go as far as to sabotage an already dead dream. There was also the little matter of... “The last thing I heard… was that Commander Morrison and Reyes were dead. Miss Amari too.”

“That’s a situation we’ll get to.” Came the brisque reply. “We are not at loss without them.”

A soft ‘hhhmm’ from the cyborg, who was thinking deeply upon the fragmented facts he knew. It was almost phenomenal in a way; like no time had passed between them whatsoever and yet… Winston, despite his efforts, felt like he was hiding something. The death of Commander Morrison and Reyes had been well documented news but the other had brushed it off as if it had affected him little-- or could it have been… that that wasn’t the real story?

Overwatch was famous for lying; it had been famous for its coverups and famous for its corroding of the news, done so harshly that no story even resembled the original source. If something was up, the gorilla knew. He _was_ Overwatch-- the pure part. His tired mind couldn’t connect the dots but he knew there were lines to be drawn. Between them the soft droning of a far off machine became the loudest noise for a moment while he pondered before he caught the worried look on the scientists face, snapping out of it.

“... Apologies. There is a lot to catch up on.”

“And many others to catch up with.” Winston gave a kindly smile and pushed him a little in a certain direction; towards some stairs leading lower underground. “But you’ve travelled a long way and I do not want to tire you more. Go downstairs. I have a room set up for you there.”

“... Thank you Winston. It’s so good to see you again.” A small smile beneath his mask… there were so many questions that he wanted answering. 

“Likewise, my old friend. I can’t wait to see you all once more in action… for the good of this world.”

For the good of this world. He almost wanted to laugh but refrains for the sake of his dignity, turning to the stairs and thinking that once again… his mask had handily hidden his expression. It was troubled. Commanders gone, spooky medical bays and an attack on their once proud Gibraltar, a place where he had once been stationed for fighting. 

His descent led him to a row of doors, once again very in tune with the whole hospital theme, that had temporary whiteboards upon them; instantly he felt a jolt in his chest upon reading them, taking his time to scan over the nailed-up boards with his fingers twitching ever so slightly… it felt odd. It felt _very_ odd.

There was, in all caps, ‘MCCREE’ on the first one. It was as if he had pressed down so hard upon the boards surface that the pen was about to snap. There was a little doodle of a gun beneath it. It was a bad doodle. Very… typical. McCree had always been playing around, he recalled, and sometimes he had played along. They had both been young after all, and he found that in his term of isolation this man was one of the ones he missed the most… the urge came to barge into the room with enthusiasm, but it was fleeting. They weren’t kids any more… and no doubt, like he, the other had changed.

The next was his; did McCree write his name? The former Blackwatch vigilante’s handwriting spelt out his name in the same aggressive manner, this time, without a doodle. Genji noted that he’d have to write it himself when he got the chance. Skipping over said room to investigate the others, he feels himself get a little faint at the next one.

It read ‘Amari’ in such a beautiful way that he was struck down with images of Ana racing through his mind-- but she was gone. This must be the daughter she talked often about, that he had only seen once before. He didn’t expect her… to be _here._ He barely remembered Ana for her fate had been sealed just as he was bought in from his own personal Hell but he remembered, in the days of his recovery, the old lady visiting sometimes. She had liked to check the new recruits. Her motherly instinct was so clear… so pure that it had left marks in his heart that still panged even today. 

From there it was ‘Tracer’, the writing wacky and wild with a smiley face next to it. She was a ray of sunshine in the darkening days that were the end of the cooperation. They had been stationed together at Gibraltar and, just like how he had clicked with Mccree’s boyish attitude, the playfulness of the former pilot had always been joyfully accepted. Her sheer spirit to continue on, even with what _afflicted_ her was one of the things that had helped him along his own recovery route-- the idea that no matter if the end was near… there was always a solution that could make the darkest nights bright.

Opposite her was Torbjörn; a man he greatly disliked. His continuous attitude towards Omnic’s was always unfair and, due to his body, he always felt like he was being frowned upon by the old man. Spite was born because of this, and he refused to acknowledge the others ‘groundbreaking creations’ as nothing but killing machines. They were never stationed together and never saw eye to eye on anything, their only saving grace being Genji’s politeness when it came to people acting disgraceful towards him. He didn’t want to fight with people there, but if the other’s attitude remained the same… so be it.

Next, written strongly and sternly upon the board, was the man he knew as the ‘lion’. Reinhardt was a beast of a man with a tender heart that he had always looked up to, as many of them did; brave, strong, determined, a literal life saver. There was nothing else you could want in an ally… and a friend. Genji remembered when the old man would visit during his training days to act like a living dummy; they always treated each other so gently that it barely felt like a fight. He would remind the man that he was not as frail as tissue paper, but that roaring laugh would come forth and the response would be, ‘ _Ah, but it would be cruel for a lion to break a bird’s wings!_ ’ His nickname ‘Sparrow’ was something he only told a select few, and ever since he started calling Reinhardt the lion… well, he became a sparrow for certain.

Winston was next. An example of how you could change people’s opinions of you with what you can do and what you can accomplish. Winston was the brain of the operation and an ear that would listen when you had problems you didn’t feel you could disclose with anyone. He knew, soon enough, he would desire the other’s company private again for the answers that he so sorely needed.

And the last door too inspires fond, fond memories… in the neat scrawl that was Mercy’s handwriting was ‘Dr. Ziegler’, curly and small, with ‘Angela Ziegler’ written beneath. So professional… but he knew too, so tired. He had spent a long time in the woman’s company in his days recovering from his fight with Hanzo and, as a result, knew her perhaps more than anyone else thought they did. Her gentle laughter coupled with her ability to become suddenly stern always made him want to giggle like a schoolboy on the yard, yet her wiseness made him feel twice as young as he actually was. She was, without a doubt, a miracle. 

Genji turned to his room, twisted the handle and slid himself within before he could think any more. The light was flipped on, the door was closed, and he was greeted with a plain looking room which consisted of a desk, a bed, a sofa and some posters-- _now_ the man began laughing.

The posters were from his old room back in Gibraltar… the ones he had left behind. They depicted a better time, where he was standing amongst ‘heroes’; legends he had only ever dreamed of meeting in his former life. He had always adored them so, for back then they had felt like a dream come true… now they felt like propaganda somehow. Like they were a great lie for he was not a hero any longer… and some part of him thinks he never was.

The bad thoughts made him grunt, shake his head, switch off the lights and throw himself down onto the bed. No matter what time of day it was, no matter how early or late it was, it was always the _wrong_ time to start stressing out about days gone bye and actions long gone. About the people behind doors and an abandoned medical bay and the rolling mists of China lapping against his frame. About his doubts about himself as a hero and about the fact that he had still honored the call like one. He was still _there,_ in the American mid-west, among the red mountains and deserted plains regardless of whether he thought he should be or not. Regardless of whether something was up or not, whether Winston was hiding things or not.

Behind his helm he closed his eyes, took a synthetic breath in and exhaled nothingness into the darkness with his armors lights turning off. It was the beginning of something strange… and sleep couldn’t have claimed him fast enough.

* * *

A roar was echoing around his ears, electricity like fire upon his skin. He gave a cough and a splutter but his lungs gave only blood and took only smoke. The cuts ran deep, so deep that they kissed his bones with their teeth bared and some shattered beneath the sheer force of the impact. 

There were dragons. 

They were sapphire in color, curled at his throat and _tugged_. The serpents were pulling him apart and he couldn’t do anything about it, no matter how hard he thrashed, no matter how much he kicked, the two dragons could not be shaken. Thunder crashed down from the black sky, obscured by their wispy manes and his own lack of oxygen… it was dulling his eyesight till he could only _see_ that black. 

His life was fading. He had relived this moment a million times and every time the same thing happened; his eyes blaze green and he attempts to bare his own teeth in an attempt of retaliation, an attempt to grab at the failing strands of his life but no matter what… his life was fading. The man could barely move his arms, could not feel his legs, the rain came scathingly down upon his torn-up skin and he expected the end. A shuddering, gurgling scream. It _had_ to be the end.

“Genji? Genji?!”

… But then suddenly he was being shaken into consciousness. The lights were on, he was in a bed in a poster filled room… and a woman had her hands at his shoulders. It took a moment for the haze of the nightmare to leave him, but when it does, his eyes light up in feverish surprise--

“... _Angela?_ ”

* * *


	2. The sparrow and the dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji is found, but the two still feel a little lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me planning this story out: Ok not a lot of Gency!  
> **   
>  **Me: Writing this chapter: Oh god what have I done.**   
>  **Hope you like! I wanted the meeting of Genji and Angela to be emotional. The impact of seeing him once again after all this time I felt would be great upon her. Next chapter gets a bit dark so I will be increasing the rating then. Take care! Thank you for any feedback given.**

* * *

Angela had had a very, _very_ busy day.

Working among the new ‘crew’ that Winston had given her, it hadn’t taken her long at all to find them inadequate for what she needed. They were a staff force of doctors and nurses, _yes_ , but none of them had ever operated during warfare and the good doctor wondered how they would deal with casualties beyond the scope of what medical school had taught them. Treating broken bones was one thing. Dealing with people almost torn completely in half or riddled with bullets was most definitely another. The problem was however that not many doctors of her calibre were left… and a great deal of them wouldn’t return to Overwatch no matter what the paycheck was. They favored peace… and she didn’t blame them.

The meeting with them had ended with a tired smile from her as she dismissed the team and had slid out of the rooms door before all of them had even finished comprehending the end. There was an acute feeling welling within her of needing to sit down and write to release some of the pent-up stress that had been ever-brewing within her mind since she had taken the plane to the hole-in-the-ground that they now called HQ. Writing, she had discovered, had been almost a literal life-saver for her; when times were bad, when things were going wrong, writing out the problems helped for better analysis and thus, closure. 

It had been just over two weeks and already she had accumulated about thirty pages of stress-relief. That day would be page thirty one, it seemed. About five of those pages were on _McCree_ alone.

But McCree was a thought for another time.

Doctor Ziegler had to first _make_ it to her room, however. She was nothing short of a celebrity and for every smile sent her way she felt pressured to return it whilst not letting it turn into a grimace. Being treated as such by wide-eyed newcomers, swayed into the ideas of glory Winston was putting into their heads and trying their best to get recognised as good workers was another thing weighing down upon her shoulders. They asked questions about the times where Overwatch was staffed by a thousand people, ones she did not want to answer. This facility, this dream, was not even fit to be the shadow of the former headquarters. 

The medical bay was barely operational, firstly. She had been manually checking _every_ piece of dusty equipment with great care, writing individual reports for every piece. Some things were almost brand new and some looked like they would most likely cause death than prevent it. Nothing was sterilized and thus everything had to be moved, rooms cleaned with special agents and then everything moved _back_ in; she had been helping there, too, for she had to oversee the medical staff’s wiring, making sure everything was plugged in right. When everything was finally _acceptable,_ Angela then had to organize all these reports and begin the teaching of more extreme medical practises to her medical team. Luckily enough a former work colleague of nanomedicine application (not a doctor) had returned from obscurity… and he had the task of explaining all of _that._ Winston liked to remind her that it was still _her_ team… and she liked to quip back with the softest, most strained tone that she was a doctor… _not_ a teacher.

The only break there was was determined by her _own_ physical state. When standing got hard, when talking got too tiresome and when she was at the end of her wits she was allowed to dismiss herself for however long she needed. Everyone knew the head doctor wouldn't abuse this so no-one really minded when the meeting had reached its abrupt end earlier. She had known her limit had been reached when a young, bushy-haired doctor had asked her plainly about how extreme ballistic wounds could be before it was easier to let a patient go. Her answer had mentally been _anyone can still be saved_ but she couldn’t utter these words… not after Genji… not after Reyes. There had been a sigh, a wobbly smile, and a mention that she would cover it next meeting.

Before she knew it she was standing before the stairs to the living quarters. She mentally cheered herself on, legs almost trembling with the ache they were feeling from standing so much that day… just a few more steps and she’d be home free for at least a few hours. Down the stairs, skipping the bottom two with a hop, she began to skitter down the hall towards her door with her eyes shining for _rejoice,_ the time to relax was _here_ \-- but… something halted the woman but a step before her room. There was an _odd_ noise, like a rough banging against one of the room walls. It was irregular, almost fringing on a scraping sound, and it was coming… from Genji’s room?

Every inch of her body was telling her to just squirrel herself away within the confinements of her room, to cuddle with the covers of her bed and to write her woes away under the soft gaze of her desktop lamp; but her mind was now completely elsewhere. The noise and its location had suddenly lit a fire beneath her brain, tiredness waning, worry peaking. Just to make sure she wasn’t going crazy she stood there motionless for a few more breaths, listening intently, but as sure as the sun… there the sound was again, _thump,_ once more from Genji’s room.

Her breath halted a little in her throat-- he was _here?!_

The fire within her suddenly became raging, fueled by anxiousness, tinged with anger. Doctor Ziegler almost had the urge to turn around, stomp back up those stairs and snap (gently) at Winston for not telling her the cyborg was even on his way. Sure, she had been overworked and in a meeting for most of the day… and she would have dropped everything… to catch up with Genji... _Ah. Perhaps that is why I wasn’t told._ She figured grimly, approaching the door with a gentleness to her steps despite how alert she suddenly was. The anger faded. It was time to fret.

To say Genji was important to her would have been an understatement. In some regards she had achieved the unachievable; a resurrection, the true conjoining of man and machine. But he was more than just something to be proud of. The cyborg was a _friend_ of the highest type, the one that brought you coffee in the stale, never-ending night, the kind that was always eager to listen to a problem to help fix it, the kind that made you laugh when you felt like breaking down and weeping every tear you had pooling inside you. To her, there could be none so loyal as this strange man from a strange land, who spoke his language so softly it was like poetry leaving his tongue. There was a lot to admire and a lot of good memories attached to him… it felt like he could waver any darkness but the one within his own heart. 

Her hand lingered only briefly upon the handle as she attempts to repress the memories, not giving a second thought to privacy invasion as the metal is twisted sharply-- and the door clacked open. It is dark within but she can definitely see something; something she hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

She no longer felt silly for worrying.

The scraping noise had been the points of his helmet against the wall, leaving deep scars against the interior that were a definite sign of struggle-- unintentional. His visor was glowing a vivid green but it was not the sort of glare that it usually gave off, no, but one that threw light at either side of him in almost a _possessed_ fashion. His body was twisting restlessly back and forth amongst the clumped covers and there it came again, the _thump_ of his helm colliding with the wall. This was something she had seen long ago. Long before he had left Overwatch, in the early days of his recovery when he was a young man plagued by nightmares that engulfed his entire being at night. She hesitated no longer, smashing her hand against the light switch and springing to his bedside to clasp his arms tightly before shaking him with as much violence as she could muster--

“Genji? Genji?!” She didn’t let go until the glare cut out, his body going rigid with sudden consciousness… the woman’s grip in that moment, backing off to give him space.

“... _Angela?_ ”

His voice was confused, soft and surprised… broken and wobbly. No matter how incoherent he felt however it wouldn’t stop him from feeling a sudden spike of shame deep within him, the feeling making him sit bolt upright in feigned alertness to stare at her with his blurry eyes dull. 

Dragons and teeth and suffocation and death; blood pouring out of his mouth and limbs shredded from his bones.

God _damn_ it. Of all the times for them to meet after so long, it had to be over him having nightmares like a child who needed his mother to soothe him. That is where the shame stemmed from; her worried expression, the gouges in the wall, the panic that was still rattling around in his brain… it led to a deep silence where he attempts to pull himself together. She waited, like the kind soul she was. It took a moment before he could fully muster up a response to her existence, fending off the edges of his tormented sleep-cycle.

“I--” 

“No.” She cut him off with a hand held up… before it’s extended to him to help him off of the bed. “... I know you’re going to apologize.”

…The doctor never ceased to amaze him with how much she knew him. 

He gratefully accepted, tentatively placing his hand in hers and letting her pull him off the bed to find his feet. The growing need to apologize however increased tenfold at the action, steadily growing until he wanted to flee the room entirely. Embarrassment was surging through him in the familiar way it did when he was younger. 

This _shouldn’t_ be happening.

“... Genji,” Comes her soft voice, slicing through his thoughts as if she once again could read his mind. She wanted to ask a thousand questions but settled for-- “Are you ok…?”

Abruptly, “This was not how I wanted to greet you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come; I’ll take you to my room. We can talk more in detail there, hm…?”

There it was. It was the tone of a doctor talking to a patient, one that came naturally to her but one that always felt stifling to him. He _didn’t want_ to be in that situation; he wanted them to converse like old friends who had lost years between them… but with the incident that had just occurred the man knew it would be impossible. Concern was a weed that never died in the doctor’s heart and for some part that was good… but at the same time it was almost suffocating for them both.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure he was going to follow her and together they bridged the short gap from his barren room to hers, the woman shoving the door open and holding it for him with an eager hand motion being executed with the other hand. He silently slipped in in with a gentle head-nod of thanks.

“If I would have been told you were coming back I would have met you at the door.” Angela remarked hurriedly, as if she was worried he would think she hadn’t wanted to see him. The lights are flicked on to reveal a room _very_ typical of her-- clutters of papers everywhere still somehow seeming neat, a small, private coffee machine, three corkboards with notes plastered over them and a bed that looked rarely slept in. She ushered him to the sofa gently, making sure he was sat, before closing the door behind them.

“... But no-one told me, and I had not thought…”

“... That I would return?” He finished her sentence with hesitant curiosity. “I … couldn’t resist. The moment I saw the recall message I came.”

She gave an uneasy snicker, “Ah… same, actually. I hesitate to say it but without the ability to help people I felt a little bit lost. I am more qualified than just a mere doctor-- after what I had done… I could not return to a normal life. I thought I could come here to resume what I had never finished.”

“Your single woman assault on warfare and its casualties?” He jokes weakly, but it makes her laugh regardless.

“Exactly. What about you, though? I thought you were travelling… Winston told me that last year you were in Nepal with a group called the ‘Shambali’.” Angela had last seen him intensely proclaiming his new path in life, but Overwatch kept close tabs on the people they once held close. Genji deflated a little at her words, not knowing that he had still been watched even after his adventures.

“I found peace… but it seems like coating a wall in a new layer of paint will not hide its holes.” 

His words echoed around the room in silence for a little as the doctor moved to sit on the sofa beside him, hands folded upon her lap. She tried hard not to be pressing, but… it was in vain.

“Is it ok to ask… what happened?” She utters sympathetically. “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”

“It is fine. I was content until the thoughts of my brother began to plague me again. I went to see him and when he gazed upon me… he barely believed it was me.” A pause, the man leaning against the sofas back. “His eyes… they were so strange I could barely believe it was _him._ I do not wish to admit it but it … hurt.”

“And you’re not weak for admitting it hurt.” She cut in with a stern edge to her voice. She had attacked his sense of honor in the past and hadn’t changed; the Japanese man’s upbringing had really bred some (in her opinion) terrible ideals into him. 

“... Then why do I feel so weak?” Genuinely said, “Why am I struggling when I had peace… why did I go back to see him when he had destroyed me so, and why did I come back here when there is no chance I will find comfort here?”

She bit her lip, leaning forward just a little.

“You’re not weak, Genji. We all have missteps. What happened to you was traumatic, and no amount of ‘meditation’ or soul-searching can take that away--”

“Then what must I do if nothing is working? Was the absence of fighting the answer?” His voice was raised just a little; it isn’t out of annoyance, it is out of concern. A synthetic breath in, fingers twisting and curling in his own lap, pressing deeply atop his thighs...

“Am I doomed to live the life that you and the others made for me?”

The silence between them was chilling. Her eyes were round with a myriad of emotions he could not pinpoint but at the same time he could not look away-- it had barely been a half hour since they have met and already… it was just like the old times. The entire encounter was reminiscent of a conversation very similar to this, just before he had left, but also of a thousand conversations the two had spun whenever he felt uneasy. He would natter on about his problems and she would attempt to fix them in the wake of the problem that was seemingly his _existance_. But it seemed this time, words failed her. 

There was never any doubt in what they were doing… she hadn’t liked it, taking a human and turning them into _that_ , but there was no other choice; he could have lived his life as a mass amputee with lower-tier prosthetics in his arms, wheelchair bound for the case of his legs… or he could move freely. Reyes had pressed the clipboard against her with great certainty that this _asset_ was more valuable than any they had brought in and that he must be transformed. They stole his human rights in that moment. She had been the instrument of this man’s own turmoil and suffering even if it wasn’t her who had given the orders. She had been hoping that with his own soul-searching that he would finally become the man she _knew_ he was; intelligent, funny, playful, _human._ It wasn’t out of covering for her own sins, no, but because she wanted it for _him._ This man who had been dragged into her operating chair semi against his will, with little choice but to choose a life of strife over a pitiful one… one that had not made his choices while right of mind.

But Overwatch didn’t care. They got their answers.

… And thinking upon it, where they were currently _wasn’t_ Overwatch. Not yet. She had the freedom now to say things she had been sinfully quiet about in the past and there was no doubt in the woman’s mind that she was going to speak them _now_ without regret or punishment.

“... Fighting and war will never be the means to a man’s end.” She spoke tensely after the pause, voice cracking. “I… you’re still recovering, even if it felt like you were over all that happened… you’re _still_ recovering-- and sorry I was not there for you through it all.”

“Angela, it is not your fault.”

“You were _my_ patient, Genji. I let them have you so that you could fulfill your wishes even if it was too early. You needed therapy, you needed help, but Overwatch wanted you to fight.”

“ _I_ wanted to fight.” He assured her. “It was my choice to seek revenge.”

“It _wasn’t_ your choice when you were not right of mind!”

Now _her_ voice is raised, hands having moved to grip the side of the sofa intensely. Her teeth were grinding so hard Genji could have sworn he could have heard them as he sat there, watching that once confusing gaze of hers switch to the same troubled one he saw his brother wear on that dark night in Hanamura. 

He’d never heard her say something like **that** before… but then again, without the weight of the world’s eyes above them… the situation was a tad different. They could speak more freely than ever before, even if it meant saying things that should have been said a _while_ back. Genji didn’t know much of the psychological repercussions of what he did outside of knowing he _had_ them. But the man was no doctor, he just stumbled as swiftly as he could through life whilst trying to do the right thing. 

Visiting his brother that night had not been the right thing. 

“I… I am sorry.” Mercy suddenly mouthed, head hanging. He wasn’t sure how long those dark circles beneath her eyes had been there, but now they seem more prominent than ever. “... I’ll help you now, though. I won’t let them put anything before you this time.”

She had remembered questioning the government over and over on their decision and had pleaded them to stop him, but their response had always been the same thing over and over; ‘ _This is what he wants._ ’ They had not given her _clearance_ to _question_ him and point out that his weak mental state was ripe for being _controlled_ , which it was being. The woman had been callous in her lashes back, stating that he didn’t _know_ what he wanted. That he was a trial, that he wouldn’t be ready but no… they let him go, and the next thing she knew he was fleeing them to look for answers none of them had for him. It was wrong. The whole thing was _wrong._ Brother or not, she had expected something like this, something like the regression back into conflict and brokenness that she had seen in the beginning days because these things were _fixed_ by talking-- but Overwatch didn’t want to _talk!_ They wanted _action!_

She was angry once again, standing to walk across her room to press the button on the coffee machine harshly in complete silence. His eyes follow her slowly, his figure hunched, eyes gentle beneath his visor.

“You don’t need to do that, Doctor Ziegler. I’ll be fine.”

“I found you thrashing in your bed with your visor unit lit up in the dark like you were actively fighting something. There are deep marks in your wall.” She snatches her mug from her desk, “You are _not_ fine. You cannot expect me not to carry some of the blame for you.”

“You do not need to blame yourself for me… I shouldn’t have gone back expecting my brother to accept me as I am.”

“And I shouldn’t have left you alone so easily.” 

“Angela… it wasn’t your fault. I do not want to be just a _mistake_ or a _burden_ to you.”

Her hand shook a tad as the machine began to gush coffee into her mug at a steady rate, the woman trying desperately not to let tears coat her eyes… just like the day he had suddenly got up and left. It was unprofessional to get attached to _any_ patient that came through her doors but he was different. She had ties to both his creation and ultimately his fate. His _everything_ was a result of her practice, her methods, her reluctance to deny him his own addled wishes as a dying man, her quietness whilst Overwatch dictated what they would have him do as if he was nothing more than a machine for fighting. She had been silenced and that was not her fault but Mercy always figured she could have fought for her right to speak harder. His basic human rights had been _denied_ after all. Deep in her heart despite his words she would not stop feeling like he was her mistake for as long as he remained so plagued with these problems that she could not fix… that she herself felt she had caused.

“You are not,” She lied, though she was never good at lying. Her pitch was wobbly and words partially breathed, wavering. “... All that matters is now that I can and _will_ help. At least let me do that.”

Angela gave a jump suddenly-- she hadn’t heard him move from the sofa (ninjas would be ninjas after all) and was alerted by a hand being set gently upon her shoulder with such a soft touch it felt like it was ghostly… which could be described as accurate to his situation. The touch wasn’t human. It was steel and fiber wound to replicate comfort and perhaps he knew the replica couldn’t contend with the real thing… perhaps it was why he was being so gentle. 

“And just like before… I’ll be here for you too, Angela.”

But the mistake was thinking that she _cared_ about the force of said touch.

Abandoning her mug upon the coffee makers stand she twisted around and embraced him with such severity it was as if he was about to leave her life again. Her arms met around his thin waist with her face buried carelessly against the metal plating of his collar, the corners nicking her skin a tad. Once again she did not care, allowing tears to run along the edges of his metallic body like ink following the grooves of paper. 

She allowed herself to cry against him as if he had never left on his adventure. Breaking down wasn’t a sign of _weakness_. It was a sign that you had a million things contained within you that needed to get out before they began to destroy you from within-- it was an act of relief. That particular moment was one that depicted the _strength_ of their long-going friendship that had spanned his disappearance and back again. Angela knew that if he could allow himself to weep maybe he would’ve too… but the feeling of him leaning into her was enough to know he felt just the same as herself. Just as sad, just as in pain, just as troubled, struggling just as much as the other. 

Against her cheek his synthetic heartbeat was a gentle ticking that made her feel like all this work for the past two weeks was worth it just to hear and feel it again. It wasn’t that she felt pride for she had crafted it herself, it was that Its uniqueness and softness was just so _him_ that even its slow rhythm calms her sobbing to sniffling gently. Because of it Mercy allowed herself a period of quiet to just listen and live beside her companion once again. He was alive. He was _alive._ Gloriously standing in front of her once more having staggered to the spot, but it was still _him._

“I missed you so, so much Genji...” Came her quivering words... “I-I’m sorry for everything.”

His synthetic voice, now so full of emotion, was as heartfelt as hers. “There is nothing to apologize for. We were just two birds with broken wings; and you built me better wings.” A hand is reached up to run gently against the back of her head… “I am eternally grateful for allowing this sparrow to soar once more.”

“Thank you for your comparison… but a bird as small as a sparrow couldn’t fly me to a better world.” Said clumsily, almost in a whisper to herself.

“I am a big sparrow, I assure you.” He attempted to lighten the mood for seeing her cry hurt him so, especially when it was over him. Above all her glorious smile was worth fighting for alone, and if he had to fight the sadness that had befallen them both… so be it.

Luckily his attempts paid off.

She gave a weak snort of laughter and moved back a little to knock the side of his head a little in the gentlest fashion, lips pulled into a haphazard attempt at a smile as her eyes glistened in the half light. The action was a sign of affection that she had never grown out of. There was no doubt in her mind that her puffy cheeks and wonky expression probably looked laughable but it was made genuine by the fact she knew, _knew_ , that beneath his helmet he was smiling as well. Angela had missed his stupid phrases and poetic mannerisms greatly… they almost made the woman forget that she was a sniveling wreck in the heart of things. Of course she would play along.

“You’re a fool… I mean that.”

“Was I a fool before or _after_ you made me?”

“ _Genji!_ ”

He had to resist his reflexes of blocking as she rapped him gently once more upon the helm, the two burst into a weird kind of laughter that they both knew was covering up an extreme feeling of emptiness that was consuming the other inside… but it was better than the alternative; better than wallowing in what they knew ran deeper than the moment. It was better to savor the precious scraps of laughter they could get in the situation that they were in. Plus, to each other, the sound of the others laugh was almost uplifting, like seeing the blue sky after a horrid storm. _This_ had been how he had wanted to meet her originally... it was belated but good enough...!

Without warning the doctor suddenly grabbed his wrist in a confident manner, tugging him towards the door in a march as if she had forgotten something... which she most definitely **had**. His gaze flickers from the coffee she had made a few moments before and then back to her with a small smile still upon his hidden face.

“Angela you look tired. If you must, rest.”

“Ha! More like I look like a mess. Crying gracefully has never been my strong suit." She quipped back in a harmless manner. He watched her free hand raise as she attempted not to rub her sleeve against her face to rid herself of the wetness upon her cheeks-- the woman looked beautiful regardless, came the offhand thoughts in his mind. "We must get working right away; we have a lot to catch up on and a lot to talk about.” 

“So then why are you dragging me _out_ of your room…?” A puppyish tilt of the head.

“Because _Mr. McCree_ is going to be overjoyed to see you!”

“Wait-- _Jesse?_ ”

Said with great joy, “Yes!”

He had a feeling the other would be here, just as the name boards had suggested and momentarily he puts aside his own strife to allow a calm to wash over him that he hadn’t felt since he had started the journey to the new HQ. Mercy was still Mercy. She was a little older and a little more tired, but beneath her sadness shone rays that were more intense than the sun itself. That darkness she held within her would have to be broken, that guilt, that sorrow over _him_ in fact, could not be allowed to sit any amount of time later. Just as she had promised him, he would in turn chase away her demons that she had always harbored since his original stay with her. 

As he was dragged, the woman chattering to herself about how happy McCree would be, beneath his visor he gave a few starry eyed blinks.

… His eyes had been wet after all.

* * *

It was a cold room with white everywhere and the faint beeping of a machine that he hated with a passion. It broke his sleep, jostled him constantly, and became almost a constant reminder that he was _stuck_ in this bed without the ability to _smoke._ The ‘No Smoking’ sign plastered on the wall and the assisted breathing mask fixed to his face could also be called reminders of that. 

Jesse McCree gave a rasping cough and turned his head towards the afternoon light fluttering through the window, his eyes half lidded and red.

Hospital beds were the creation of Satan himself.

* * *


	3. The dog in his den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The visit to McCree reveals more than he could ever imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hi hi! Plot-y stuff. Writing McCree is hard and I don't know if I got him right. Still, thank you for everyone kudos-ing this, if you have any feedback for me please feel free to comment! Rating was raised with this chapter for obvious reasons. :P**

* * *

He hadn’t expected McCree to be in a hospital bed, that was for sure.

Genji had wondered why Mercy had taken her sweet time in prepping him for what he had been about to see. She had first uttered not to worry, and then that he was fine, and then a flurry of sentences tinted so heavily by her accent that he only made out bits and pieces. 

Something about an accident and him recovering well. Ha, well _that_ set off a few alarm bells.

By the time they had wandered the labyrinth and had located the correct room the door had been thrown open by the Japanese man with such force it had smashed itself against the wall it was hinged to, causing the cowboy to start in such a dramatic way that his hat went flying off of his head. 

Jesse McCree, former Blackwatch member, permanent resident of the old Mid-west and sharp-shooter extraordinaire… was laying there with his leg elevated and casted, torso covered by bandages as much as it was covered with blankets and a breathing mask over his face strapped by the ears. He was much older, much heavier looking, with the wiry forest that was his facial hair having grown even longer since he hadn’t been able to really shave. His eyes beneath his wild fringe were, however, just as they always had been. Genji had always liked to compare them to the eyes of the traditional hunting dogs of his home land, always alert, ever vigilant and glowing with strength within. He was a man that played the fool but had the strength to take down whatever was thrown his way no matter how ground into the dirt he was, and it was beyond admirable.

Oh, and one of his arms were _metal_ , shining just to the side of him-- that was a new addition as well. Did it hinder his ability to shoot? Did he get it fitted _here?_ How did he lose a whole damn _arm?_ Before even saying hello the ninja was drawn to it in the way that he was always drawn intensely to anything remotely intriguing yet, before he could ask about it, the explosion of noise that came made him and the doctor peeking into the room jump in alarm.

“ _\--Genji!_ Holy shit, is it really _you?!”_ He rasped, a gruff hand patting his side to see where his hat had went. Angela’s expression was a squint now. Why did the staff insist on letting him keep it? "Damn, it's really _you!_ Where ya' been, buddy?!"

“Wha-- S-Settle down, Jesse…” Genji walked into the room carefully with his hands out as if he was approaching a wild horse that had just had sugar cubes dangled in front of it. “I’m so glad to see you, bu--”

“Don’t you go tellin’ me to settle down when a _stranger_ jus' walked through my door! Just ‘cus they muzzled me up don’t mean I can’t yap with the best of ‘em!”

“It’s not a muzzle, it is an oxygen mask.” Mercy sniped from the door, just to be figuratively shot back at with a glare as good as any gun. A petite hand motion. “You do not have to wear it while you’re awake, you know.”

“Coulda’ told me that a few days back, ah?” The motion of him tossing it to the side was careless.

“We _did,_ it’s just that you do not listen.”

“I’m wounded, not deaf-- wait, you been cryin’, darlin’?”

“ _Doctor_.” Mercy began to rub at her face again. “It’s none of your business, thank you.”

Genji watches this interaction with his gaze uneasy beneath his visor as they snapped back and forth at each other as if they had practised it before hand… or as if they did it often, which wouldn’t surprise him. Back in her more patient days Angela’s more forceful tone could set the two _much_ more immature boys in their places but it was a little different now. He had noticed with every Blackwatch mission he went on Jesse came back a tad different, like he had done or seen something that no other should see-- even when the missions were sometimes just information gathering ones. He became a lot more closed up, a lot more sobre, even if his little get-up still existed. The thoughts made the ninjas heart crumble just a little. They had both fallen very far.

“--nd Genji, they didn’t even tell me y’ were coming here!”

He snapped to attention suddenly, desperately aware of his inability to control his constant ability to drift away. 

“They didn’t tell me, either.” 

McCree, from his bed, shot her another look this time; it was a little more complex than the last ones. Sharp, decisive, as if he was trying to prove something with that dark, deep gaze of his. Her response was to stare back with a faltering one of her own, a hand brought up so she had something to delicately cradle her head against. It took a few beats for the cowboy to let off on the intensity, head lulling in Genji’s direction.

“If I would have known y’ were comin’... I would have told you to stay away.” The drawl of the others voice, though still scratchy, made worry blossom in the cyborg’s chest. All the strings of bad feelings leading up to meeting Doctor Ziegler were starting to whirl around his mind again at the worrying statement… he gave a soft hum, barely audible. 

“What do you mean...?”

“Don’t, _Jesse_.” Hearing Angela say his first name with such harshness made the cowboy hack out a laugh with his eyes slipping shut, slinging a hand across his stomach lightly. 

“Y’know it’s cruel to hide the truth from him.”

“It _isn’t_ the truth!” Angela’s shoulders were rising with annoyance, her teeth beginning to grind again. 

“Ah…” Genji looked back and forth between them, a little frazzled by the interaction and pretty much lost on the subject. He could trust Jesse just as much as he could trust Angela-- they weren’t both going to lie to him. Their conflicting attitudes however were giving off two completely different airs, like they were disagreeing on something vital. Honestly the cyborg wanted to shake them both ( _and_ Winston) until they stopped hiding whatever they were hiding so that he knew the whole story here. It took a split second to decide what he wanted, stepping between them with his visor turned to look at Mercy, hands reaching out…

“Whatever you're talking about... I want to know.” Decisively put, which made the doctors hackles metaphorically un-raise. Only a little however. “Everyone is hiding something-- Winston is, too. I don’t want to be left in the dark.”

“But… he’s not even sure.” Her teeth meet her bottom lip in a soft bite as that hacking laughter rang from the cowboy once again.

“I’m sure, darlin’. Leave us be. Got my big boy pants on an’ everything; I’ll tell him the full story and he can decide for himself, hm?” McCree’s hand raised as if he was about to tip his hat to add a dramatic flair to what he had said, and when it met with absolutely nothing he swears under his breath. 

The look Genji sent her in that moment was soft and pleading… not that she could see. Hers in return were the colour of a greying sky, clouded with worry, concern… and sadness. But with the balling of her fists she cut their exchange off suddenly, span around, and began to exit the room with a sort of fire about her. Slim, worn fingers curled at the door and there was a little look over her shoulder… 

“I believe in Winston and his work, whatever you believe.” The grip is lifted and with the soft clicking of her heels she slides through the door and disappears without a trace, leaving the two men in the room to stare after her with a degree of worry about them both. When the sound of her shoes had faded into obscurity, McCree slowly turned to Genji with a frown upon his face and his fingers interlaced at his middle. 

“I wanna’ believe in Winston too, y’know… but it’s not the same.” The words were so cracked with the strain of his voice that Genji was not sure if there was sadness in the others tone but he liked to believe there was. Jesse’s eyes… they were just as sad as Angela’s.

“He has always showed excellent judgement and has always brought us together in a way that cannot be described, I feel.” Genji muttered, taking a perch on the edge of the older mans bed. 

“You’re not wrong but... I’m gonna’ tell y’ something super serious partner. Don’t ask if I’m jokin’ or somethin’ ‘cuz I’m sick and tired of people askin’ me that.” McCree was speaking under his breath. “I don’t think Winston is any different than what we know him as, but he’s just a puppet, ain’t he?”

“For who? The government?” Genji replied stoically, looking about the room. “There is no way world leaders are involved in something as small scale as this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy.” A click of the fingers. “‘Course they are behind this. Winston can’t just conjure money out of thin air-- but they can. Don’t need a lot in their eyes ta’ fix a dump like this. But you know what Winston _can’t_ do?”

Genji’s head tilted a little to the left in question, silent.

“ _Force_ us to come back.”

There was a deafening silence after the wounded man’s words, where the cyborg is merely eyeing him with slight surprise. That was… very true. Winston would not interfere with their lives and would not give them grief for not returning to what they had built together. Even if there had been remaining members of the original group, Winston had always been a ‘head’ of sort and _while_ he was heading operations he never ever coerced them into anything they did not want to do. Everyone trusted him with their lives and knew deep down that he believed in them with every inch of his furry being. 

McCree shattered the silence suddenly, knocking him out of thought.

“Overwatch itself is the reason I’m layin’ here in this bed.”

The American couldn’t see how owlish his eyes had become under his visor, peering at him with great peculiarity. It felt like he had been _smashed_ out of thought instead now. That didn’t make any sense whatso _ever_. 

“But… surely they wished to recall y--”

“Y’ think I’d ever come back to this _shithole_ of my own will?”

“But you work for the people. I’m sure whatever is planned of us it is for everyone and for justice.”

“ _What?_ Overwatch an’ everything above it is better at killin’ than it is at justice!!” 

Jesse’s face when he said that was twisted with the beginnings of such violence it made Genji sit up straight. Being injured didn’t take away from the ferocity that was McCree and his burning sense of right and wrong, good and bad. It was a much different expression than he was used to, much more harsh, much more… like Reyes. He had been right. Learning from the now dead commander of Blackwatch had twisted him so-- or perhaps McCree had always been like this. His memories of how the past were always looked at with rose-tinted glasses, always so pleasant compared to the future that maybe he failed to remember the times where Jesse stood up for himself against Overwatch and its ideas for Blackwatch. What was justice and what was murder. Out of them all, _despite_ Blackwatch, McCree had an understanding of these things to a great degree.

“You think… you think they hurt you?” Politely said, to not arouse the others fierceness more. 

“I don’t think it, I _know_ it. Lemme’ tell you a story.” Almost growled. “One minute I’m hitchin’ a ride on a ghost train carryin’ livestock up North, the next? _Another_ ghost train slams inta’ mine at full force-- besides the animals… I was the only _human_ casualty. Things like that jus’ don’t happen. It should have been _impossible._ ”

Ghost trains were the things of the future; never stopping, not piloted, just mechanical beasts surging through the land at stupid speeds with such precision and silence that almost everyone preferred them to the older style trains that had once dominated the vast masses of the land. They were piloted from bases scattered all around the land and machines calculated every aspect of them down to the closest decimal point, dictating speed, internal temperature, and cargo safety to the smallest things like track friction and suspender calibre. Because they were so fine tuned and machine run, in the history of their run time there had been practically _no_ incidents involving them; they were efficient, cheap, and most of all, _safe._

So the idea that two of them would collide suddenly was absolutely absurd. Machines didn’t make mistakes like that in that day and age and there was no chance it was human error. 

“You think… Overwatch sent a train into yours to injure you so you’d have no choice…?”

“... But to come back, yeah. Just a _little_ coincidental, isn’t it? The particular train I was on was travellin’ just a few hundred miles out from here. No news coverage whatsoever. They _knew_ I was on that train, they had ta’.” His fingers curled tightly against the bed, expression as dark as a stormy sea. “The speed the other train hit at was jus’ low enough that it was completely eradicated, leavin’ mine overturned and crashed inta’ the ground. I got knocked out instantly… and when I woke up I was here with a few broken ribs, broken leg, punctured lung and a few other problems.”

“I am sorry.” Came the automatic response from Genji as a tightness began to snake into his chest. 

“Not your fault, friend. If I died they wouldn’t have cared. I know the secrets of Blackwatch after all. Me livin’ now means they think they can control me by ‘savin’ my life’ and thinking I’m indebted to them. The whole thing was _win-win_ for ‘em. But just ‘cus they put me down here it don’t mean I’ll stay.”

“But, Jesse…” The Japanese male’s voice came softly, “If… this is true then what does it all mean?”

The smirk that spread across the cowboys face was perfect for how sharp his gaze had suddenly become.

“That means, partner, that Overwatch is as dirty as ever… and tha’ _some_ of us are not gonna’ get the choice as to whether we rejoin or not. But I’m not co-operatin’. They can break my damn _legs_ and I’ll still crawl outta’ here.”

Genji felt weak all of a sudden. He felt like he had spotted a grave in the Earth and willingly thrown himself into it-- of course he believed the other man’s story. There was no way he _wouldn’t_ , for there was no reason for Jesse to lie and all together it had affirmed the weird aura that this pit had been giving off since the get go. A shudder ran through him that he couldn’t hide, prompting a gruff had to appear at his thigh suddenly… which McCree was patting comfortingly.

“Can’t tell what your feelin’ for sure, but you either seem like you’re about to tear this place apart beam by beam or fall to pieces.”

“I’m not like that anymore, Jesse. I will not cause unnecessary violence… but this does not mean I do not believe you.” His voice found strength in his sudden resolve to dig deeper into this. McCree makes a grumbling noise and removes his hand wistfully. 

“Deep down I know Mercy’s gotta’ believe me, she just doesn’t want us gettin’ our noses into trouble that we can’t even comprehend yet, case it gets just killed.” A light scoff, “If I’m right-- and I _know_ I am-- it would mean this whole things jus’... it’s just a ruse to get us to fight again. I don’t know what, but it can’t be anythin’ else.”

“So we’re going to become an army, just like the beginning group.”

“Yessir.”

The original group, the original Overwatch; formed to stop a war… made to do things no other people could. If this was correct that meant there was either a threat or a battle upcoming that had been kept secret for the world that they wanted them to take part in-- and if Jesse was right that meant that some former Overwatch ‘golden age’ members would be _forced_ to return and work if they did not do so willingly. Genji in that moment gave a dark laugh and sought to bury his worries and anxiety down deep in the wake of the revelation.

“... You know what?” 

“Wha’?”

“I’m glad I came.” 

China was a sleepy route in tall, tall forests where only few dared to tread under the summer haze of the midday sun. It was an adventure and all that, but _this…_ not only was it _purpose_ but it was also a chance to help his friends-- to see and _be_ with his friends once again. The tantalising thoughts of him relaxing alone had become ones of discomfort for he was tired of being alone. This was a new reason to get the embers in his eyes blazing again. Like a warrior called to war he came to fight but he was going to fight for the good side, against whatever darkness lurked around the disappearance of commanders, the assault on Gibraltar, and now, the injuring of an old ally. If the darkness was the leaders of the world then well… so be it. 

His head was yanked a little-- a hand had grabbed the banner-like extension of his helm. 

“You’re an idiot.” Came the deep rumblings of Jesse, letting him free-- only to grab his arm when the ninja leans down to pick up his hat. “Hey!”

“ _I’m_ the idiot? You want to resist the _United Nations_.”

“Don’t you? Or are you gonna’ be a coward, boy?”

“ _Boy?_ ” Genji puts McCree’s hat on and tips it in the same manner that the other usually would. “You can bet on your life that I’ll stand with you, _kid._ ”

“Genji I swear, I’mma’ count to three then I’m gonna’ kick your ass so hard you’ll wish you would have stayed nine thousand miles away. One.”

Genji gets to his feet to back away a little, still wearing the older mans hat. 

“Come on!”

“Two.”

He takes up a stance as McCree, grinning wickedly from his bed, is beginning to try and get up with his eyes alight with the hunt. Just like, the cyborg reminds himself, the hunting dog. Just like the past. 

“Three!!”

* * *

Mercy had rushed back into the room when machines began to fail to find two grown men squabbling on the floor like one _wasn’t_ injured. To be fair, a lot of the grabbing and whacking had been McCree being playful and Genji had responded by blocking a ton but _still,_ grown men! Angela had pressed a hand to her forehead, scolded McCree so savagely he was roaring with laughter (to hide the inevitable pain) and breathlessly had been shoved back into bed, facemask reattached. The doctor didn’t deny him painkillers but definitely threatened it. 

But to the two… It had been worth it. 

Genji had been shoved back to his room as, though it was only just beginning to grow dark outside, Angela assured him that word of him being here had gotten out and that people were dying to see him. That lifted his spirits a little. 

“Rest now,” She had said specifically, “Because it is going to be a long night. Reinhardt is returning from work outside, and I’m not going to let you fall asleep during his return.” 

Work outside? Long night? Those parts were almost forgotten by the man at the mere _mention_ of the war hero. Though he mostly spent his existence feeling tired these days he wanted her to sleep more than him and thus obeyed her wishes, knowing she was going to most definitely rest the moment she disappeared behind her door. They exchanged goodbyes (after she had promised to wake him up at the right time), parted ways, and once again the ninja threw himself down onto his bed with his mind racing. 

Well, it _was_ racing… before it suddenly wasn’t.

It was dark. So dark that the blackness was almost otherworldly, existing as a physical entity that chilled him to his very core. Within this dark he couldn’t see a single thing but the shining of two eyes in the far distance, barely noticeable in this horrid anti-light… they were affixed directly to him, their pupils pinpoint and piercing through his being like they were swords pinning him in place. Genji took a few moments to adjust to the situation before he recognised those eyes, their harshness, their sharpness, their _disappointment._

All of a sudden once again comes the curling of blue against his skin, the dragons biting down with the intent to break him-- pearly teeth and hot red blood come spilling from him as if he had been lanced a million ways, pooling at his feet, staining his clothes through and as they begin to _dig in_ he watches as his flesh begins to peel from him in curls. Mottled pink with blue veins striking through it, melting from him and landing in clumps at whatever remained of his disfigured feet which could no longer hold them as they shattered with a smash of the dragon’s tails-- he was pinned. The wall behind him, he was sure, had become a painting of gore as he felt parts of himself being smeared against stone.

He knew what was coming; his innards would spill and the dragons would devour them as they almost always did, but this time instead of the inevitable grinding of fangs against his organs there was a warmth that fizzled and cracked within him. Sparks flew emerald and seafoam into the air above and around him, skittering against that dazzling blue to burn it out of existence and dragging the azure serpents black into the darkness they had came from… and before him, those eyes that had been so keen on glaring him down had become wide in wonder. A look left, a look right-- all about him in the place of flesh there was green… wisps and coils of green that robbed him of his pain and fright, took that darkness around him and began to make it bright. The moment the feeling of his limbs returned he _thrashed_ , and the more he moved the more the black abyss that had swallowed him disappeared, the more those eyes began to fade in their own disturbed fear… of him. But he wanted that. He _begged_ for those eyes to show him _more_ of terror-- wished strongly for the dragons to return for this time would be different… he would be ready!

When he opened his mouth a roar sprang forth and he _pounced_ , carnivorous and violent, and by his fangs now _he_ was the one tearing the other apart. It was no longer his body there bleeding out at the mercy of two serpents, now _he_ was the serpent that would crush and tear and destroy until nothing was _left_ of his brother-- but it hurt. He was no longer hurting or feeling pain but within him as he struck his claws against bone there was a crippling nausea and sadness that made tears spring to his wild eyes, made his soul feel weaker with every blow. 

The eyes and their horrified stare had disappeared for they were now closed, attached to a mangled mess of a once-human that was Hanzo at his feet. It hurt. _It hurt._ He wanted to howl and turn his head and chew upon his own tail, gnaw off his limbs, lay down beside his kin and beg for forgiveness as all the light had vanished and in the moment, he had become his own nightmare. A killer, a murderer, a monster. He had become the glare in the darkness, the reason for pain and suffering. 

With his heart heavy he turned and began to gnaw furiously at the end of his furred tail, beginning to crunch his own skeletal structure apart in distress and the more he did it the _better_ it felt deep down inside. The cannibalism of his being led to blood gushing to run against the pieces of his brother, gasping and dying on the floor, the reds becoming once as he began on his arms-- his legs-- and the _pain_ was lifting and those tears became sobs against his own open flesh--

… And then suddenly... he was awake.

The wall beside him, where small gouge marks once existed was now torn a million ways as if he had taken his sword to it, lashes in every direction. The covers were on the floor, torn, and the bed itself was halfly pushed away from the wall with the violence. 

Mercy was there, his door wide open, the woman pressed against the far wall.

From her lips the words tumbled;

“G-Genji… there was a dragon.”

* * *


	4. The lion, caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting with Reinhardt didn't go anything like he had mentally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Whew! I had a ton of fun writing this one. I adore Reinhardt to an endless degree, I main him in game and am stupidly fond of him. Writing him in the situation he is in is only going to get harder from here. :( Once again thank you for any kudos/comments/bookmarks ect ect! They mean a lot to me and give me the spirit to continue writing on.**

* * *

It had been like a dream, or rather, a nightmare that had sprang to life.

He had been thrashing, just like before-- but now, around his being, she had seen the beginnings of a green sheen. It outlined him as if he was a cartoon, floating like the dustings of the first winters snow to perish against the bed and walls. She had chosen not to intervene in the first moment out of a fear for what would happen if she once again grabbed him and shook him hard and perhaps even a fear for her _own safety_ , which, turned out to be a rightful feeling. Keeping herself at a distance had been an instinct she was thankful she had chosen to not ignore.

It was hard to describe what she saw in the aftermath of said thoughts. He had sat up, as if he was incredibly lucid, and it had made her take a tentative step forward that she backed up upon when the next action he took turned out to be _violent._ He had raised a hand-- no, _not_ a hand--! Overlapping his fingers were the jagged edges of something inhuman, a _claw_ , composed almost like hard light in the deepest shades of emerald that could ever be seen and in a move faster than she could follow that claw _smashed_ itself against the already scarred corner of his room. There were dents, _holes_ , and then _gashes_ as he suddenly raked his hand up it over and over and _over_ \-- Mercy gave a cry and held onto the door as if her life depended on it.

His eyes… glowering orbs outshining even his visor… like a man possessed. 

And she had no doubt that what she was seeing was a magical discharge of sorts. The green outline had shifted into what looked like horns upon his head, light projecting eerie shadows around the room, and though his visor came a projection of a _snout_ and _teeth_ and staring upon him in that moment… he had become the bastard of man and dragon in an ethereal, nightmarish meeting. That was a dragon. That was _his_ dragon-- or maybe it was just… him, his soul, his _being_ , or _whatever_ it was that he summoned in battle.

It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been _terrifying_ for like a crazed beast he began to frenzy-- his assault on the walls left it in pieces and it doesn’t stop there. He pushed the bed away from the wall in a single motion of strength before his hand-claws meet the bed, digging in deep enough to leave a mighty impression against its surface. They teared at the covers, shredding them as he dragged himself forward with the tips of his _feet_ now gathering aura that formed like paws there, long, curled claws twitching erratically-- 

And he falls off of the bed, crawling right off the edge.

All of this happened within the space of around fifteen seconds. The sitting up, the hitting of the wall, the struggle to roam from the bed, the beginnings of a monster-- before it vanished.

Though It didn’t vanish _instantly_. Everything faded out of existence as if the magic was lost with his lucidness as he lay on his back on the floor. The male gives a gasp, shaky, with every one of his limbs twitching erratically-- he bolts upright to his feet and swings his head over to Angela who remained frozen on the spot, the terror in her eyes unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“... G… Genji?”

No response that first time. The second attempt got through to him.

“G-Genji… there was a dragon.”

The cyborg didn’t comprehend her words until he glanced left, down and around to the claw marks, the shredded bed covers, the wounds upon his bed… and still feeling like he had been jolted awake by _electricity_ he continued to quiver, wordless.

Mercy didn’t move. She doesn’t want to. With all her heart she wants to feel like the man couldn’t hurt her but if it wasn’t in his control then lord knows _what_ he was capable and until the moment had long passed… she had no intention of walking over to the horror that was now the war-torn edges of his room. But at the same time she didn’t want to leave him at a time like that and most certainly didn’t want to leave him in the dark about it all. That is why the woman reaches out a hand very gently yet nervously, not used to ‘magic’... not used to an unknown factor like this.

“Genji?” She called softly, trying not to let her voice wobble. “It’s… It is you, right?”

“It’s me.” Said breathlessly with little pause as he gazed down at his shaking hands. “I… I do not think I am all right.”

“A-Ah, I…” God damn it. She couldn’t keep herself away even despite the danger.

Slowly she approached him with that hand still out, very quiet, almost halfly crouched with her eyes still as round as the full moon. He didn’t move. He didn’t even move when her fingers gently touch the inside of his wrist as if to break him out of his intense stare, but even then… he didn’t move.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. His mind raced through memories of him and Hanzo’s training when they were only young, when they had scriptures drilled into their heads detailing how they _would_ go about training in very _precise_ manners. How they would meditate and communicate every feeling, how they would think deeply and take every raw emotion they could feel in order to provoke something that ran in their blood that no-one else had.

 _’They respond to strong emotion,’_ His father had spoken. They learned the true meaning of this the hard way.  
Whether it was training, arguments or worse, no matter what it was they would both accidentally and purposefully provoke the others dragons that, in the early days, they could not control. But they would learn. With every whack over his head with the wooden rods or denial of sleep by the Shimada heads and with every inch of his anger and hatred came the fangs of a wild beast that stunned others into silence but took hold of him like it was possessing him. Learning to tame any monster was impossible enough-- with the dragons, it had taken years and years and years to even command their respect. They were one with their vessels and did their will, but it was out of respect and respect alone.

In the days before he had learnt to control his, he would remember that sometimes the dragon would escape him-- it would appear during ordinary sparring practises and crack his sword into a million pieces beneath his grip. When he was drunk and trying to have a good time with Hanamura’s nightlife he would attempt to show glimpses of it to his friends to show off, but it would not appear… and _yet,_ while he was hungover, its roaring in his ears would almost deafen him and he would be left breathless with the sheer exertion of it feeding off of his energy. Sometimes he fainted. Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it didn’t.

Hanzo mastered the dragon first. When he had loosed it upon him, he had barely been able to control his. He lost because of that.

And now he was losing control of it again, it seemed.

Blue dragons spiralling towards him with their maws open wide, feasting upon him with their wild eyes and heated breath like fire upon his torn skin. The image played out as his gaze became unfocused, unclear, and the twists and turns of his own body breaking rolled like a film running its course--

“--Genji, please respond.”

Ah, right. He was standing in a torn up room with Mercy. Her hands were upon his arm, shaking him lightly to try and get him to at least speak. His response was to step away from her, his heart only then beginning to calm down in his aching chest.

“Don’t... worry.” Angela immediately shot him with a look when he uttered that in the most phased way ever. “I… I mean it. It used to happen a lot back at home. Nothing meditation will not fix.”

“You’re lying.” She saw right through him. “This ties into everything we’ve talked about.”

“But, but this is the first time this has happened in a few years--”

“Is it dangerous?”

Her abruptness threw him off a little. Was there any real point in lying when she would drag the truth out of him anyhow? His voice was continuously distant sounding as if he was locked into a dream he couldn’t shake.

“Perhaps. But if I control it it’ll be fine.” He would be fine. _I will be fine._

“But you _can’t_ control it, I just watched--”

“I’ll control it. I can handle this.” _I will be fine._

“Look at your room, look _around_ you-- stop talking about this so _calmly_ as if it’s going to disappear over-night because I have already told you, it will _not!”_

“But with time--”

“You just _became_ a dragon!!”

She pinned his arms to the side now and began to shake him as if to knock sense into him. Behind his visor his eyes were starry and vague, focusless and tired. This was unfortunate. Very unfortunate. It was embarrassing and shocking at the same time that he could be unravelled so easily by nightmares or fights or moments like he was a mere child; in his own mind he reminds himself that he’s an adult. The stress and worry he felt was irrational and would be easily dealt with when he just _calmed down_ about everything. 

In some ways he was glad it was happening here as opposed to him being alone on his little ventures but at the same time… it should not have happened at all. Something he repeated to himself everything something _did_ happen. It shouldn’t have happened.

Sort of like how Hanzo shouldn’t have attacked him like they did recently, sort of how he shouldn’t have denied the other the ability to even feel like he _existed._

There was a sharp _click--_ the vents atop his shoulder popped and started streaming soft white smoke that made Mercy give a start before she realized what was happening. She shook him harder in that moment to rouse him out of the silence that had befallen them. There was a sort of desperation to her actions that spoke volumes to him and the cyborg raised a hand to shove her away a little in the most polite way he could… before saying something that made her jaw drop.

“So… when are we going to see Reinhardt?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Was… that a sharpness to her tone? He almost flinches in response. “You can’t just pretend like this didn’t happen.”

“I am not, I just do not want to dwell on it… not yet, at least.”

“My medical examination concludes with the notion that you are sick and not fit currently to s--”

“I’m going. Sorry, Angela.”

He couldn’t think about this. He couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t let it get to him, couldn’t get the sight of the most vividest image of the two dragons consuming him to date out of his _goddamn mind_ but he also couldn’t think about it! Every single thought about what had just transpired both mentally and physically was a pang in his heart that made him want to _weep_ and he couldn’t figure out why for he was supposed to be at _peace!_ That was another thing he relayed a ton to himself. Oh, if he would have spent more time in Zenyatta’s care… would have ignored the messages that Overwatch had sent out-- perhaps this relapse wouldn’t have been so harsh. Perhaps if he hadn’t had been idiotic enough to go after Hanzo it would all be fine in the first place.

But every inch of this _damn_ place from the _damn_ design to the _damn_ people were reminding him of the first few months where he could barely _crawl_ without howling in pain.

Angela was following him.

“Get back here, _Mr Shimada._ ” 

Oh boy, that made him freeze in his tracks. 

“Angela, _please_ , I promise I will comply with your wishes, I will allow you to help me but _not_ now… please.” He wanted to talk to her when he felt _ok,_ which was backwards and the opposite of what she wanted _and_ what was right. 

But for now, his emotional state felt compromised. And there was the innate fear now that he knew he had lost some control of his own power that the dragon could spring forth against his will once again… and, provoked by _her,_ would do something he _did not want._

“You should be complying _now._ ”

“But… not now. I need you to understand… I feel _weird_ inside, Angela.” A pause in which he catches her gaze, “You asked me if it was dangerous-- at the moment, I think if you prod or poke at the situation, it may rouse it once more.”

Now, this seemed to make her falter a little. She began to internally rationalize it and settled, unwillingly, on comparing it to a patient who reached a limit for a day. If he was at a limit at further fuss about it was going to push him into a state of pain or distress or if it was (in his very special case) going to _awaken_ a dragon just this once… she could stop her chasing. His words were not to be taken lightly, she knew. It wasn’t like him to say how he really _felt_ when it came to emotional states. ‘Weird’ was a good enough word. Not that she _liked_ this outcome… but she didn’t want to cause more harm than good.

“Fine… fine. For now… it is fine.”

“Really?” A sigh of relief from the male, feeling more relaxed already. 

“But I’m serious, Genji. Very serious. If I have to burst into your room just one more time I will _seize_ you on the spot and I _will_ drag you to the medical bay.” A finger is held up in a not-joking way. “I’m only letting you off this _one time_ because of Reinhardt but do not think for one second that this will make me let up or forget. I may not understand magic but I _do_ understand how the mind works and I _will_ be watching you and breathing down your neck every second that this continues on for. Do I make myself clear?”

“As a crystal, doctor.” A weak laugh, “You’re scary when you're determined.” 

She gets close and up in his face a little with the strictest frown she could muster, reminding him of the beginning days of his cybernization. 

“I am one of the leading doctors of the world and you are my patient. My word is the medical law. You only get passes because you are _also_ my friend… but not even that will keep me at bay for long.” She didn’t speak in an egotistical manner but rather an insistent and factual one. “I will get what I desire.”

“... Understood, Dr Ziegler.” 

“Now move. We’re already late.”

He understood, however, why her voice was laced with grumpiness and annoyance. He was being stubborn. Of course the woman was right in the fact that this was a serious problem, serious enough to be reported to any authority around in case he suddenly went rogue-- but he knew she wouldn’t tell a soul. Genji felt like this was between them and them alone now (and perhaps McCree, the poor soul). She had already taken it upon herself as her error in his treatment and he didn’t trust anyone with the secret that wasn’t her or anyone else that she trusted in a significant manner-- and when it came to doctor Ziegler, that was no-one but herself. So he knew he was safe and his secret was safe but the question was… for how long.

Her hands were at his back, pushing him every time he came to a corridor, swiftly ushering him through the area he had arrived in and off through some double doors that … seemingly led to an identical room? Everything looked so similar down here that he was lost within literally a minute of straying from his room-- but the click of the doctors heels reassured him that she knew where she was going and after a while of walking… he knew, too. Because he could hear a ruckus, a great deal of people all talking at once. 

The sound was bouncing off the walls so noisily that his strides became confident as they reached the most peculiar doors he had seen so far… they were grand, wooden, and deeply etched. If this hadn’t been a medical facility it probably wouldn’t have looked so strange but here, against the white walls, it just looked odd. Genji spared the other a look as they watched people stream from them.

“Library. Most libraries are designed like this to be a getaway from the medical scene and this one was no different.” Angela replied with vague annoyance still in her voice, poking a head round the door…the large group of people leaving were wearing a variety of clothes. Somewhere in suits, some in medical uniform, some in casual clothes, some dressed like workers. They were all chattering excitedly among themselves, dispersing in the four different directions they had a choice of while the two stood awkwardly at the door waiting for them to finally really _leave._

“We missed it.” The woman said with a sigh. Genji remained confused.

“You know, you never told me what you meant. You just said he was coming in from working outside and you never mentioned why it was important to meet him here specifically in the first place.”

“Because it’s… it’s endearing. I thought it would remind you of better times if you came and listened as a surprise.” Dr Ziegler placed the back of her hand against her cheek wistfully. 

“Listened? To what?”

“Stories. It quickly became a thing. Every time he’d come back from work… he’d come and tell his war stories to everyone in the library. He disappears for two, three days at a time but no matter what, every time he returns, he will meet with almost _all_ of the staff for a little morale lifting.” 

Morale lifting. The fact that this was _needed_ was another one of those alarm bells ringing. But then again, living in a facility that was for the most part underground (besides the critical medical wing) would have its downsides. No sun, stale air, constant work. He figured after realizing that that morale lifting must now be vital for these lost sheep and their fruitless work.

He forced himself to think of her words of _’he disappears for two, three days at a time’_ as careless wordplay and nothing else.

“Yes… he always did love telling those, didn’t he?” The memories of that however made him smile a bit beneath his visor, and despite the stress that ate at Angela… she managed a small smile too.

“Everyone loves them… he really is a beacon of hope for all of us.”

Genji desired to meet Reinhardt even more now and wasn’t about to let these people stop him as he rounded the doors edge to slip in past the last of the human bodies bustling through the passage to return back to work. Angela followed him a little more politely, apologizing for bumping into someone whilst scuttling after her metallic friend the best she could. Perhaps he was a little thankful that this time he hadn’t caught the other in the middle of a speech about warfare from days long gone, about the glory of a worthy war. He imagined Rein plucking him from the crowd with those large hands of his and snatching him into a hug midway, and he would have burned red with embarrassment under the stare of all of the staff members watching. 

The library was huge. Lit by grand looking chandeliers that burned brighter than any fire could, set against quilted walls with the kind of patterns one could spot in tapestries. Amongst the rows and rows of great-shelves, housing what he presumed thousands of books, stood ladders and stands containing directories and instructions of where to look for what books. The floor was the richest red and green, zig-zagged with gold that was worn looking underfoot of all the people who had ever walked within the room. There was a community area where once more, rows of wooden tables lay for independent, study-based reading away from the sofas and cosy looking armchairs that formed a large quarter-circle in the far corner. 

It was nice, Genji admitted mentally. It looked far less abandoned than the rest of the facility did and with the random people sitting and standing around it looked a lot more cosy than everywhere else, too.

And of course, the main thing his eyes drew to in the room was the old man himself.

Angela was already running past him, over to the tank-top donned man who was… actually, rather _scuffed_ looking, if Genji had to decide on a word. It threw him off quite a bit seeing as since she had mentioned him images of him in his glory days had become his (unrealistic expectation) of the other. It was peculiar because the other looked like he had been rolling around in dirt as opposed to whatever else the ninja had imagined him doing outside; scouting, land mapping, investigation… anything but the jobs he associated with the earth. His hair was wild and his facial hair as wiry as ever... Reinhardt was getting old and now it sort of showed, for even the theatrics that were ‘him’ were toned down. That booming voice was softer and slightly cracked. Though it left those who didn’t know him interested and enthralled, for an old friend… the signs of the inevitable were showing.

Genji didn’t dwell on it, as he didn’t like to dwell on anything for too long any more. He stopped thinking about it specifically when the thought arose that sending this man back into battle would mean the end of said man and that Genji himself might in the future might be in that battle with him. It was too much. The sadness that wasn’t warranted for that point in time was unneeded. 

And so, cupping his hands against his visor, he tried his best to sound as upbeat as he could.

“Sir lion!” He chirps, dodging people to skitter over to Angela who had been pointing at him excitedly. The lighting up of the others bearded face was enough to sort of smother any bad thoughts in his heart alone.

“It really is the little sparrow! _Mein gott!!_ Come here boy!” 

The moment the cyborg got within arms reach his earlier predictions were brought true and he was snatched up into a crushing hug where his feet didn’t even touch the floor. He was glad his muscles weren’t real. They always ached after such things. 

But there was a problem; up close… though still grand, Sir Wilhelm’s eye… there was a true attempt at being happy but the ninja saw right through it. His gaze was… sad. The excitement was from seeing _him_ but aside from that every line on the others face was deeper than before, buffeted with shades of grey and black from whatever he did as work nowadays. That expression made Genji’s heart skip and for the longest moment he is silent… before bursting into semi-truthful happiness in a vague attempt to cover his own emotions. 

“Reinhardt, I’m so glad to see you!” He stammered out. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?! I would have rushed over to see you!!”

Angela makes a flat face. “I said the same thing.” And so did McCree. It seemed to be a running theme these days that no-one was ever told anything.

“Well, well… you know how they are!” They being Overwatch, the cyborg presumed. Genji was put back on his feet before the mountain of a man who curled his fists and placed them against his hips, smile as glorious as the sun itself despite the rest of him. “You haven’t changed a bit my boy!”

“I… hmph. Aha,” People kept saying he hadn’t changed physically and he didn’t know why, “I never will. And what about yourself? Angela told me you were working outside, does that explain the…?” A hand motion was made to indicate the other’s appearance. 

“Ah! Well, I’ve been helping the workers outside move rubble.”

“Move _rubble?_ ” … _What?_

Something about the cyborgs tone suddenly made the two Europeans glance to each other with a weird expression.

“Yes! Well, ah, you see… I help move rocks at the East entrance that collapsed ages ago, aha!” The older man moved a hand to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck. “It takes muscle, so naturally…”

Genji stared, unblinking, taken aback.

“You’re one of the founding members of Overwatch, a war-hero and national icon, and they have you here _moving rocks?_ Angela mentioned you return after a few days-- do they _keep_ you out there?”

“It is… easier to stay closer to the site. Less security issues that way.”

Genji bit his tongue lest he sounded like Hanzo suddenly with talks of honor and unworthiness… but that wasn’t right. Just because someone was strong didn’t mean they should be sent out in the heat and put into labor, especially when they were as important as he was. What did Winston make of this? Did anyone really care about how _demeaning_ that seemed? The happiness of _seeing_ the other after all these years didn’t break through the wall that was this news.

He suddenly found himself a little _angry,_ perhaps on the others behalf. Reinhardt was such a gentle soul, beloved and adored, respected and admired and now here before him sat that very man, dirtied, tired looking, and lumbered with the task of moving debris-- and being kept outside nonetheless. _Why_ would Overwatch send him to do such a task? Were they just trying to keep everyone _there?_ Mercy’s work, Winston’s _much needed_ organizational skills, McCree’s injury and now this… were they just trying to keep everyone occupied? What would they have him do? Would he follow the same path as his old friend if they deem him too nosy or purposefulness in this dreary environment? 

“This is wrong, Rein. You should stop working. Rest--”

“This is what was _ordered_ of him.” Angela whispers, words hitching. Her sudden intervention was very tender seeming. 

“Since when did they tame you?” He looked directly at the old man. “It isn’t like you to just listen to anything they say.”

Reinhardt gained an expression that lanced him right through the heart. Genji was no psychologist but he knew the expression well for he had seen himself wear it long ago when Overwatch had talked him into destroying his family. When he looked in the mirror back then, he knew it was scribbled all over his scarred face… shame. Shame that your small victory was nothing compared to what the _organization_ gained. 

“... Did you chose to come back?”

Silence.

“Why did you come back if it wasn’t by _force_?” The Japanese man couldn’t help himself, voice raising a few levels in a way that prompted Angela to stand between them in a protective manner though there would _never_ be any threats of violence between them.

“Because where else can you _legally_ be what you once were?” Her tone was pleading, _begging_ Genji to just stop. Her bright blue eyes were shimmering under the glowering light with a thousand emotions but she could not stop him with feelings alone… and truthfully, the words she had just spoken sounded so empty and forced that none of the three believed them.

“It isn’t about that. They have something on our friend; did you _know_ about this?” His gaze swung to Mercy who was pinning him with her own stare.

“I… I know a little, not a lot. Mr Wilhelm was here before I got here.”

“And you’re letting this _continue?_ ”

“Do _not_ talk to me as if I have any say in any matters around here!” The woman sounded hurt… and though Genji felt heartless in doing so he did not let it phase him. He was angry, which was an emotion he thought he had long left in the past… and Hell had nothing on the fury of a dragon. Apologies could definitely come later.

“This was all a trap. McCree was right. Once they have you here what choice do you have _but_ to listen? What do they have on you, old friend? What are they keeping from you?!” He calls over the doctor’s shoulders with such aggressiveness that the people around them started to turn their heads to look with interest… Angela’s head in response snapped left and right, fear bubbling within her that too much had been said aloud. 

Reinhardt gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped… the depressing image made his hands curl at his side and his being _ache_. “I’m sorry, little sparrow… this is just how it has to be.”

That was it. Just like before, just like _years ago,_ a familiar feeling sparked in the ninja that he also thought he had lost long ago in snowy Nepal. One that was just at its beginnings but still there all the same, as if it had its roots in his very being.

Vengeance.

Just visibly brighter than his visors light, Genji’s eyes flickered a bright emerald beneath his helm.

Mercy flinched.

* * *


	5. The eagle and the hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree was an idiot but boy howdy... his dumb plans worked like a charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Had so much fun with this because of the plot coming together. Poor Mercy though. On the plus side she'll get her wish and there's more Reinhardt to come, but for now, Pharah and Genji have a mission to complete! By the way, I've never seen Jesse as an idiot as some people seem to think. I think the man is a genius. He just has a really... unusual way about getting anything done! :D As usual, comments and kudos are always welcome and thank you so much for the support I've received so far!**

* * *

In an instant, Genji had turned around.

The moment any kind of emotion reached his peak he had practised techniques with Zenyatta about how interlacing fingers could stop a lash out, how about putting hands behind your back could quell anxiousness, about how at the _point_ of an outbreak of any kind of emotion… removing yourself for a quiet atmosphere and time to reflect back upon yourself was for the best.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

“Genji, I--”

“No.”

The cyborg cut him off just as quickly as he had began to walk away. If Overwatch had found some way to lure Reinhardt here with information or with false promises then he would take it upon himself to find the truth for the sake of them _all._ No more disrespect would befall the tired soldier. 

Even _thinking_ about it made his internals almost burn with fury and his cybernetic jaw clench beneath his helmet, fingers curling and uncurling rapidly. It was not a battle situation. There was no _need_ for the dragon to stir within him like an animal caged, confined to the smallest cage that could be found… but it rattled and snarled and every inch of his faux body was jolting, itching to spring forth and seize this entire facility by its fangs, tear it down to its roots… so it could never rise again.

He had heard Mercy squeak in surprise, her fingers brushing his back before she scooted back to Reinhardt to say something very quietly under her breath that made the old man gain a worried expression… the ninja saw it briefly as he turned to exit. Though he was flattered the old man would still care about whatever was inherently wrong with him he didn’t _want_ him to care-- he was too loving for his own good and knew that if the two were ever alone it would be brought up; whatever ‘it’ was. Whatever was said didn’t matter _too_ much. Mercy wouldn’t reveal his secret after all… but he knew he didn’t have much time before the woman would chase him down.

He often compared her to a dove for imagery sake but sometimes she became a hawk when she was determined enough, swift and silent, a hunter of truth and a seeker of prey. Prey in this instance would be any patient that eluded her talons long enough for her to tunnel-vision in on them. She was right… she really did get what she always desired.

And _that_ was why he wasn’t going to go to where she’d expect him to go. Instead, he spent a lot of time firstly getting lost-- turning down hall ways this way and that, he found the signs on the walls to be of _some_ help as he stealthily tracked down the windowed ward… otherwise known as the emergency medical bay. By the time he got there he was almost sprinting towards the door that he knew McCree would be behind. 

“Jesse!” He barked as he slammed the door open-- the cowboy started like a horse at a gun shot, sitting up straight with his eyes round as dinner plates. 

“I-- Uh-- _what?_ ” Judging by his frazzled expression, Genji guessed he _had_ been asleep. The look that replaced the startled one on his face was one of annoyance.

“Y’ can’t jus’ spook me like tha--”

“They have something on Reinhardt, I know it.”

Genji closed the door behind him (quietly) and bounded to the others bed to kneel beside it, ignoring the chair beside the bedside table completely. McCree’s eyebrow is lifted to show off that he wasn’t surprised… but was perhaps a little bit amused.

“I know. Why else would they put the big guy out there doin’ shit like that? If you’re lookin’ for answers, I don’t got any.” A gruff sigh as a robotic hand was raised to mess with his hair in an idle manner. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do.”

“Except… maybe find this places command hub--”

He was cut off by McCree suddenly bursting into laughter, laughter that ended with him spluttering a little for breath in an embarrassing manner.

“Oh-- oh man. Y’ think y’ getting to this places control hub? Dream on, bucko’.” Sharply and perhaps too dismissively for Genji’s liking. He didn’t know if the other thought he was too stupid for it… because it wasn’t as if he _wasn’t_ the stealthiest person to exist in the world. 

“Why? I can sneak past everyone.”

“And what ya’ gonna’ do when you get there? _Hack?_ They won’t be keepin’ secrets out in the open buddy.”

… So it was that he was too stupid… but it wasn’t like McCree didn’t have a point. His point was _very_ valid. In order to steal information from a place like this you needed to be a hacker better than the world’s best. With Athena stationed here it would be most likely impossible for someone with little computer knowledge outside of gaming to really _steal_ things back from a government-led organization. They most definitely did not know anyone like that. 

“... You’re right.” A cybernetic sigh as he curled his fingers at his knees. “But we can’t do _nothing._ ”

“... Hm… we just have to look at it logically or somethin’ like that. I mean, no doubt he wont jus’ _tell_ us whatsup, y’know? We can’t force it outta’ him either.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The sort of warning in Genji’s voice was enough for Jesse to leave that train of thought immediately. 

“So whadda’ we do? Cuz’ it looks like we’re the fish in this barrel and they got all the guns.”

Genji had little to no idea what the other just said but his frustration did not stem from that. It stemmed from the feeling of hopelessness that seemed to have gripped _everyone else_ for being so submissive to the system. He wasn’t the sort of person that would readily battle _any_ system for no good reason but when there was a vigilante sitting next to him, clueless as to what steps to take when he used to be part of gang-plans all the time, his emotions were warranted. His hands reach up and he grips his own head in frustration-- something that looked less odd when someone with hair did it. 

They kept this silence for a little while under the soft light of the cowboys desktop lamp-- and then McCree lit up as if he had had a lightbulb moment.

“We get someone who _would_ know how to bypass security! But… nah, it’s risky.” 

Genji’s head tilted as it often did.

“Who?”

“Why, ya’ bucket head!” McCree reached out to smack his hat against the others skull, to which, there was basically no response from the other. To be expected. “The security chief… but itsa’ mighty stupid plan.” 

“I’m feeling like doing something stupid.” Like tearing this place to the ground single handedly. “Tell me who I must seek.”

The cowboy was wearing a weirdly skewed grin.

“Remember Pharah…? Pharah Amari? Well, luckily for you, I can tell ya’ how to lawfully catch an eagle.”

* * *

How to lawfully catch an eagle.

Genji hadn’t known what that meant at first. The last time he had seen Pharah Amari had been a while back when she was but a child and even _then_... he had only seen glimpses. Ana had stopped bringing her into work but a few weeks after Genji was recovered and ok to roam around the property but from what he saw of her… she was a lively girl with a fire in her eyes just like her mother's. Loud and proud (prompting ever so slight whacks to the head sometimes when she got too feisty or cocky) she was laughably strong for such a small girl. Naturally, after Ana’s death, she never came back… and with Genji leaving Overwatch completely he had never dreamt he’d see her again. But what was _before_ McCree told him how to catch an eagle.

And now he knew.

He had become allergic to sleep following Mercy’s threat and daren’t return to his room (for he knew Mercy would catch him there), so him and McCree pulled off something both ingenious and _stupid_ at the same time. It was as simple as hiding under a bed. 

The low hospital beds made for a tight squeeze but it was his only hiding place-- besides, he’d get lost if he either didn’t go to his room or the main foyer. If he located the library again there was a fear he’d end up somewhere completely different and in the main foyer others would see him and rat him out to Angela and so McCree, being the genius he was, stuffed the ninja under his bed. He didn’t have _any_ visitors besides Reinhardt and Angela and the old man, having just returned from work, would surely go to bed first. Angela was another story. 

And of course Angela visited.

Knocking twice before basically _storming_ in, Genji knew the clicking of her heels before he even saw her, making himself as still as he could with his sights just about able to see her shoes. Her voice was snappy and impatient… this was about an hour after he had left and clearly she had been running around on the hunt. The ninja mentally apologized for this and swore that in the future he’d make it up to her.

“Jesse, have you seen Genji? He ran off about an hour ago.” Prompt, commanding. No doubt her gaze affixed on the other was burning, but McCree had had worse. The underling of Gabriel Reyes didn’t bend too easily.

“Yeah actually, he came here ‘round that time.” Jesse took a long, deliberate pause. “Seemed angry about somethin’. Said he was gonna’ go off and find a quiet spot where no-one can find him. Whaddya’ do to him, Angela?”

“I didn’t do anything. He’s just running away… seems to be something he is good at.” 

Genji knew Angela didn’t mean that in a callous way but… it still stung a little-- and Jesse read her the same way apparently as he suddenly spluttered out a laugh. 

“Tha’s a little harsh to say, don’t ya’ think!?”

“It isn’t. I know him… he runs away from his problems constantly and thinks roaming will fix them. But it won’t.” Her tone had gotten a little more tender… but it still got to him. Probably because she was _right._ It made Genji press himself a little lower to the floor, feeling dejected in the light of the truth. 

“Don’t go too hard on him, miss. Are you worried hes gonna’ run away or somethin’?”

“He won’t. His heart yearns for change, spurred on by the stories _you_ put into his head.”

“What do you know about what his _heart_ wants!? Sounds mushy ta’ me--”

“B-Because I _built_ it, you, you!!”

A stupid answer that didn’t make sense. At the emotional confrontation Genji could imagine her face was red and her shoulders were tensed up for McCree was laughing harder now, hooting and hollering in delight because he had gotten to her. He was a man that took pleasure in a little innocent fun. Life was dull if you couldn’t pry into people just a _little._

And Genji was right, naturally. Mercy, in all her addled glory, was a shade of pink she wished she could erase from her face. Stumbling to get back her ‘intimidating’ posture and attitude she jabs a finger right at the teary eyed cowboy, recovering from his spurt. 

“You tell him… if he cares about himself and his own well-being, he should find me.” The ninja saw her spin on her heels to storm out, stopping briefly to supposedly look over her shoulder at the resting American.

“And that if he cares about _not_ worrying me to death… he should _definitely_ come to me.”

Ouch.

The door closed with a semi-slam and they waited a good minute in silence before the swordsman crawled out from under the bed… in a manner that made McCree sit up straight with that comical surprised look again.

“... Don’t you dare go all soft.”

There it was again. He had no expression to show but people read him like a damned book. As he knelt beside the others bed once again, this time upon the side that wasn’t facing the door with his head ducked (in case someone suddenly came in), he couldn’t help but hang his head a little lower than he needed to. The idea of him worrying her to such extremes was not something that was out of the ordinary-- he had felt the full force of her worry when she had been putting him together, naturally. But recently he had been feeling it so often with his constant eluding of her medical examination of himself that he felt a little bit _sick_ of feeling sick. The man deeply desired to rid himself of it completely-- but he couldn’t turn himself over until he knew what was what.

“Listen here. Y’ doin’ this for the greater good. Y’ can get back to her later… she aint going anywhere.” McCree rolled his hand into a fist and knocked against Genji’s head for amusement. “For justice an’ all that… and y’ know, if I wasn’t stuck in this bed, I’d be right there beside you.”

“I know… I do not fear for myself; I fear for everyone else.”

“And tha’s your problem, kiddo. I think _she_ cares for you more than you care for you.” Came the humored response that made Genji scowl.

“I’m doing this for her too. She’ll understand once I’ve done it.”

“Till you’ve caught an eagle.”

“I’m pretty fluent in bird; she’ll understand.” Genji remarked lamely, causing Jesse to literally squeal in retort. 

“Shut the Hell up with that stupid sparrow thing ya’ freak!”

McCree had always been yowling about that name because sparrows were neither strong or fierce, but seeing as the nickname had stuck around (though few used it) Jesse constantly sought any chance to bully him over it whenever the other even hinted at referencing it. It was a thing neither would forget, a strong mark in their friendship. In that moment the two had burst out laughing with a large, metal arm being weakly swung at the cyborgs head as he hops to his feet and back-peddles away. Genji weakly wondered why McCree adored _hitting_ him so much.

The time read three thirty am; _God,_ it was late… or early, rather. The darkness outside was absolutely pitch black with the lack of lighting anywhere in the desert and even the lamp within the room was super low to keep the place undetected. Genji had no problem with the darkness. _That_ is where he excelled. 

“Get movin’, y’ idiot. Y’ know the plan. Stick to it and you’ll be golden, ‘k?” McCree was grinning wickedly, in such a way that he wondered if the other felt like he was back in the old days where the two would stupidly plot random activities or to even further back in the gang… either way, he seemed ecstatic. He was helping get back at the company that supposedly train wrecked him after all. 

“Got it. Farewell, Jesse.” 

“Go get ‘em.”

And he was off.

Out of the door, tip-toe-running down the darkened corridors of the hospital bay so swiftly that he was almost a ghost in the empty halls. No-one was awake at this time, and with the staff gone (with them having only stayed awake to see the heroic Reinhardt) it _felt_ abandoned. There was nary a whisper of machinery to be heard, not a single door _shwwwsss_ ing open, no footsteps, no idle chatter. 

This was perfect. 

Arriving in the central foyer he pressed himself hard against the wall and waited a few beats for any sign of life. The perks of having a metallic body (which, at that time, bore no lighting as he had it all firmly switched off) was that you _could_ blend into an environment where there was lots of metal around. From afar he was essentially invisible, and with this power of invisibility came the power to leave without being _really_ caught by the cameras. If anything, he’d appear as a strange blur that would be there and gone in a single instant with barely any audio picked up.

He sneaks beneath the lense, rounds to where he knows the thing will catch him and double jumps up the ladder to hoist himself out of sight as he climbed. The central opening shaft, so long the end couldn’t be seen in the darkness, was quite noticeably _rigged._ As he rapidly climbed, skipping steps at a time, he noted the motion sensors on either side of the wall and by the time he made it to the hatch he could see the alarm mechanism on the underside of the catch. There was no attempt to disarm it, for he _wanted_ the alarm to go off… _this_ was where he wanted to be noticed, at the door touching the sand outside, which did that weird slidy-collapsing motion it had done when he had first gotten here with the flipping of the catch-- after the supposed disaster here, they had made extra sure that it was easy to _leave_ yet _impossible_ to get in.

The alarm showed a red LED and though he didn’t hear the alert signal he knew it was sounding. Rolling out he paused upon the still-warm sand, looked left and right, and _bolted_ leaving a cartoonish cloud behind him. 

As he ran, he immediately noticed the sound of something approaching getting louder and louder… like the whirring of an engine yet the _rush_ of a jet taking off-- and above him, dragging a white line across the sky… there flew an eagle. At least the bait had worked.

She was barely visible in the inky blackness but the trail-blazing of the suits engines gave it away. The woman was descending, he noted with his head craned, at an alarming rate-- and then it came. 

_Bang!!_ Something struck the ground near him that harmlessly threw him off of his feet and sent him barrelling off to the left so savagely he almost didn’t land on his feet in sheer surprise; ok, _that_ was sort of terrifying. 

“Hey, you!” Quietly, almost lost to the wind.

There was a moment of pause where he tried to get his bearings, twitching a little he looked about to remember where the hatch was, but it didn’t last long. She was getting so close now he could see the blues of her suit shimmering under the heat of the exo-suit, but like a rabbit he bolted again, making her angle sharply in the air… and _accelerate_ towards him. The ninja could hear the roaring much louder now and he knew quickly now that he couldn’t out run her, no matter how fast he was. He was dodging rocks and bushes and dead trees on a barren terrain with a body that didn’t favor flat-land. 

The only _good thing_ about this was that his body was _designed_ to elude monitors used by the militaries of the world, with heat cameras picking up little to nothing from him and normal cameras barely able to capture him at all. It would be effectively be like chasing a black cat in the night, and that worked quite well for him in this lightless environment. But he needn’t run forever. Escaping was only part one. Part _two_ was at around the right stage to begin at that moment.

… And thus he kicked off of a boulder formation, twisted himself round and launched himself back _at_ her, coming to an eventual skidding stop once he knew she had seen his position clearly.

Never in Pharah Amari’s life had she ever had someone attempt to confront the suit by literally smashing themselves into it, that was for sure. With him in her sights, running _towards_ her, the back panels fan in an attempt to slow the hell down with the kick-up from the action mimicking a dust storm. Whoever it was she was chasing was just _standing_ there, like a fool in the dark, after having run for so long… was he tired? Was he stupid? The suit couldn’t slow down from acceleration _that_ fast and the inevitable happened-- a crashing of metal against metal at (luckily for him) only around fifteen miles an hour… and together the two tumbled and crashed to the ground in a great ruckus, coating them both in the red of the earth. 

“You _idiot!!”_ She snaps, unable to see him truly yet as her jump-jet boosters stopped growling and became a soft purr between them. The woman twisted herself into a messy stand and rounded him with such ferocity he expected to be punched-- but alas. This close, as he allowed his rings to glow very, _very_ softly, she threw up her visor with the flick of a hand to reveal her beautifully framed eyes were startled and a little awe-struck.

“W… Wait… you’re _Genji?”_

Genji was standing there awkwardly trying to pretend that collision _didn’t_ hurt his cybernetic nerves. 

“Hello. It’s… been a while, Pharah. You’ve grown a lot.” A soft laugh, “... You look so much like your mother.”

The two took a moment of silence to stare at the other with no hostility between them now. She had these beautiful eyes that shone like the moon under the stars, a build that he _knew_ had to be proud beneath such a heavy suit and hair like ink spilling over a watered canvas. Stunning and proud… just like she had always been. And to be wearing a suit like _that_ he figured she must have been quite talented as well for he had never seen such a thing in his life and knew that it wasn’t just ‘standard’ fighting gear. Very impressive, but that was to be expected of the daughter of a hero like Ana Amari.

And speaking of Ana, that comment seemed to throw her facade a little as she quite blatantly tried to hide a smile that shone through her eyes.

“If you wanted to see me again… you didn’t have to organize a chase through the desert, my friend.” Gently said. “It’s been so long… and you’ve broken so many protocols.”

Oh, right.

“That was the point. McCree came up with all of this, I want to make this clear now-- I would never ordinarily let myself be hit as such.”

Pinning the blame on McCree had been _his_ step one, for he didn’t want his reputation tarnished with the others utter nonsensicalness. 

_”It’ll feel like a train hittin’ ya’ but its the only way ta’ stop her, y’ know. As long as shes up in the clouds y’ can’t touch her. You get her to stop movin’ and you’re good-- and nothin’s better than by being a stop force yourself!”_

_“You want me to… get hit?”_

_“Yeah, like a drive-by, y’know? ‘Cept she won’t drive off, she’ll stop to see what she’s hit-- hey, don’t give me that look.”_

_“A-Are you insane?! If her armor is what you said it is, how do you know that isn’t going to kill me!?”_

_“Eh,” The cowboy had waved a hand nonchalantly, "You’ve had worse.” Genji made a noise that made McCree be a little bit more serious. “Plus… ya’ gotta’ trust her. Girl knows what she’s doing.”_

For the comment about having worse, he was going to get Jesse back tenfold-- but with the actual _being hit_ hurting his sides quite considerably (with the pain now a weird artificial dull throbbing) he was going to get him twentyfold. It would have been _thirtyfold_ if the plan hadn’t had worked, but there was no denying it; when it came to results, Jesse brought them, no matter how _stupid_ everything was. Then again... the injured man _had_ warned him. The cyborg couldn't be too angry about any of it for that reason.

“Jesse?” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Of course. Now elaborate on the part where you said ‘that’s the point’ because you know… I’m going to have to escort you now. But that's all right; we have a lot to catch up on after all.”

“We can catch up later, I promise... but first I need you to help me and McCree with something.” Said slowly as to not arouse any suspicions in her but that didn’t seem to work. Her expression immediately got a little investigative." The ninja marvelled at how fast she could go from soft to not. “He told me that you’re the security chief?” 

“That would be me.” Inching closer to him with those sharp eyes. He felt a little intimidated, to be truthful. 

“We need some information that only a security chief could access and Jesse is _sure_ that you’re the right person for it--”

“Illegal activities... ? You’re asking the _security chief_ to commit a crime?”

“Yes. But for a good reason.” Genji put a lot of stress on his words. 

Pharah waited, the both of them staring the other down.

“... For justice.”

Well, _that_ caught her attention… just like Jesse said it would.

* * *


End file.
